


Support

by Peskychloe



Series: Haikyuu!! Skaters [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous Relationships, Implied Relationships, M/M, Musicians, Secrets, Trans Male Character, background bokuaka - Freeform, background ennoteru, skateboarders, trans!boy suga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peskychloe/pseuds/Peskychloe
Summary: "At first glance, Suga gets an impression of Akaashi; his face is similar, particularly around the eyes, even though he's wearing a beanie pulled so far onto his head that his hair is pressed so it almost covers them. There's something harder there, in his expression; whether it's just that he knows Akaashi better so he seems softer, or maybe it's the angle of his eyebrows, drawn down over his nose.'Urm, sorry to bother you. I couldn't help over-hearing.' He starts digging in the bag hanging across his body, lifting the flap covered in patches. 'I have... hang on, I know it's here somewhere.'"------Luckily for Suga, he meets Semi at a concert, and he has exactly what he needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zelda_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelda_writes/gifts).



> Set in the 'skaters' AU.
> 
> I should also point out, Suga is a trans boy, but as I am not trans, and therefore this is not my story to tell, this story is not about him being trans, it's merely a background detail. If there's anywhere where anything I've said is problematic, please call me out on it, but I honestly mention it so little, I imagine I'm not going to be saying anything.

He doesn't usually want to leave work in the afternoons. He has his corner, from which he can see everything in the office; no one can see him if he can't see them, which is just the way Kenma likes it.

Unfortunately, today, what he saw from where he sat wasn't something he wanted to see, so he had no choice but to vacate the office.

Thankfully, the usual table at Number Four is available, right in the corner near the window, toilets visible so he'll know when they're free if he needs them, and Hajime's work station is at the 'right' angle. He settles in, opens his phone, and texts Suga, before opening up a game to play while he waits.

'Alright, Kenma?' He jumps a little as Hajime speaks through the quiet of the cafe. 'You want anything?'

He shakes his head, and goes back to playing. 'Waiting for Suga.'

'Give us a shout when you do.'

Kenma smiles at his retreating back. He likes Hajime, who isn't one for unnecessary conversation, doesn't hassle him to order something, and makes a decent pastry. He prefers the cafe when Yukie isn't working, who is perfectly nice, but often wants to chat and he has little to say to her.

He isn't sure how long he waits, but he makes it through three levels of a terrible spin-off of one of his favourite role playing games. Why do they insist on doing this all the time? He opens the notes on his phone, and jots down some thoughts ready for typing up later. Daichi asked for the review to be done by the weekend, but the game is so bad he can sum it up in one sentence.

Kenma is just finishing off a thought, when the bell on the door goes, and Suga runs in.

'Sorry! Was having a bit of a Chikara situation.' He waves at Hajime, who holds up a couple of fingers to indicate he'll be there in two minutes.

'He OK?'

'Oh, yeah, yeah, he'll be fine. Boy stuff. He needs to stop kissing them.'

Kenma puts down his phone. 'Sorry?'

'Nothing.' He pulls a magazine from his bag. 'Is this the one?'

He nods, taking the magazine from Suga's outstretched hand, says, 'Thanks,' and starts flipping through it. Hajime comes over, notebook in hand.

'Hey Suga. What can I get you?'

'Ooh, I'd really love a milkshake. Hmm, I'm not sure what flavour though.' He looks up from the menu at Kenma. 'What should I get?'

'Not sure,' he says, still looking through the magazine.

'What do you reckon, Hajime? What do you recommend?'

He scratches the back of his head with a pencil as he thinks. 'What about chilli chocolate?'

'Perfect. Kenma, what you having?'

'Usual, please.'

Hajime nods, writes on his pad, and goes off saying he'll be another two minutes. After taking a minute to take his jacket off and hang it on the back of his chair, Suga looks at Kenma, tilting his head. Kenma knows that expression, even though he isn't getting the effect full-on as he still hasn't lifted his head.

'I'm fine, Suga.'

'I'm not! I hate it, every minute of it. And I know you do as well, so don't pretend. We need to do something about it. Did you find it?'

Kenma finds the page he was looking for, and turns the magazine to face Suga, jabbing a finger onto the article. 'This?'

Suga pulls it towards himself, lifting it slightly to stop the light bouncing off the glossy pages. Along the top, in black loopy font, reads 'Five Steps To Split Up A Couple', with a photograph underneath of a couple walking hand in hand, a woman with devil horns and tail following them.

He'd been mortified to buy a glossy women's magazine (not because of his gender, but just because they were literal garbage), and is even more embarrassed at having to show Suga; but to be honest, he really is as upset as his friend suspected, even if he refuses to show it, and was curious about what Suga has planned. Even though it isn't too hard to work it out, he still needs it confirming in case this was one of those moments where he's got the wrong end of the stick.

'Yeah! This is it. You showed me it before. This is what we do.' Suga looks up at him, grinning in a way that Kenma finds unsettling.

'I wasn't entirely serious with that suggestion.'

'Well, I wouldn't normally advocate this approach. But desperate times call for desperate measures.'

'Are you suggesting we try and split up Daichi and Kurro by following this?'

Suga sighs dramatically. 'What else can we do? At this point, I'm open to any other suggestions, pudding.'

Kenma opens his mouth, and then closes it again without speaking. Instead, his eyes start scanning the article. He's read it before, a while ago, but he wants to reacquaint himself with it before making a decision.

Hajime brings over a tray and puts it on the table behind him. First he puts a large glass of brown milk, topped with a scoop of ice cream and a large chilli sticking out of it, in front of Suga, then turns and picks up a plate of apple pie and a bottle of unopened bubble tea, and places it next to Kenma. They both say thank you, neither looking up, and Hajime slips the bill under the salt cellar.

Kenma checks the bottle's seal, and when satisfied, opens it and drinks half in one go, before carrying on reading. The two of them sit, drinking in silence, Suga texting someone on his phone as Kenma reads.

'This could work,' he finally says.

'Yeah! Right? I think so.'

'It's not as mean as other things I have read. That's why I kept this one and not others.' He screws up his face. 'It's still mean, however. We have to be careful.'

'I know! I mean, I'm not saying we follow it to the letter, some of it is just too fucking cruel. I'm not sneaking used underwear into Daichi's desk.'

Finally ready for a proper conversation, Kenma parts his long fringe with his little finger, so it rests wider on his forehead, allowing him for better eye contact. Suga shuffles his chair forward, so Kenma can speak without raising his voice.

'If you look at number two, I am already Kuro's confidant. It's not unfeasible that he would speak to me about any misgivings. I believe I am also on my way to being number three – the person they might want to be with.'

Suga nods. 'Trouble is, I have none of that with Daichi. All I am to him is some irritating speck in his office stopping his staff working.'

'This is why we work together.' He points at the first section of the article. 'You help me plant the seeds of mistrust, so that Kuro will confide in me.'

'How exactly do I do that?'

'You sleep with Daichi,' Kenma says blankly, before finishing his tea.

Suga blows through his pursed lips. 'Oh is that all? Oh well, I can totally see that happening. It's not like I've been trying to fuck him for weeks.'

'We make Kuro believe you have, or at least that Daichi wants to.'

'I don't know, Kenma, this is starting to sound nasty again.' He scoops up some of the ice cream with the chilli, and bites it in half. 'Daichi isn't a cheat, and I don't want to seem like a twat who steals boyfriends.'

'I've known Kuro for almost my whole life. This thing with Daichi is breaking me in two. It needs stopping before it starts.' Admitting so much is painful, but less painful than having to watch Daichi kissing Kuroo goodbye when they arrive at the office in the same car every morning.

Suga's hand starts to reach across the table, until he seems to remember who he's with, and places it neatly back on the table as if he hadn't been trying to touch Kenma. 'I know it's upsetting, and I know it's worse for you than me, you've been in love with him way longer than I've even known Daichi. But I'm not sure lying and scheming is the way to go about it.'

'Are you not curious as to whether Daichi would consider you as a partner?'

'Of course I am! But they seem happy.'

'The two of us are miserable. Simple mathematics would suggest that splitting them up would make more people happy than keeping them together.'

Suga scoffs. 'OK, so number four. Once the weakness is exposed, we exploit the weakness.'

Kenma nodds. 'Yes. I make the most of Daichi's wandering eye when talking to Kuro, and you talk to Daichi about how close I am with Kuro. Try and get him to open up.'

'And then number five – react appropriately when they split up. By appropriate, that means jumping their bones immediately?'

'We show empathy, express regret. And then, eventually... jump their bones.' His mouth turns up slightly as he speaks.

Suga snorts a laugh. 'You've given this a lot of thought.' He lays his arms across the table, his cheek against the surface. 'Urgh, I'm still not sure about this. I feel dirty just imagining doing it.'

'I understand if you don't want to. I'm not sure myself. However, if we decide to do it, I can't do it alone.' This was no exaggeration. He'd given a lot of thought about how to use this article in the past year with Kuroo's other partners, but he'd never been able to make the final push; he just couldn't find the inner strength to meddle on his own.

He'd seen a chance at the same moment he saw Suga's face the evening when Kuroo had ended up with Daichi; someone who knew him well, who could work towards a common goal with him. He never managed to make the final push then either, and if Suga hadn't asked him to find the old magazine, he never would have.

Kenma's social awkwardness is often cited by his mother as the reason he's fallen for Kuroo; because he doesn't know enough other people. But convenience isn't their only connection, and as he gets older, and met more people, he still always gravitates towards his childhood friend.

'Will you leave it with me, at least,' Suga says after a long pause. 'I can't decide right now. If I do something I hate myself for, that would be pretty bad for me, mentally.'

'Suga, this was your idea.'

'I know! But you're the brains behind it. The one who makes it sound possible. Like you said – I can't do it without you.'

Kenma looks down as his fork as he presses it into the pastry, releasing the filling, watching the almost white cubes coated in liquid spreading across the plate. He's not a bad person, just weary and pitiful, and Suga's the same. He knows, despite his misgivings, that if Suga gives the go ahead, he'll do it. He's not sure how he feels about himself for that realisation.

There are no more words needed, at least for now. As Suga noisily sucks the dregs of his milkshake, Kenma goes back to his game and starts to eat his pie.  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr

For the first time in years, he allows himself to be carried along by the crowd. Hands held in the air support him, shuffling his body from the middle of the room towards the stage. He manages to spread his arms out and wave at Akaashi while security lifts him upwards as if he weighs less than a bag of sugar.

'Do it again, and I'll throw you out,' he says, pushing Suga around the side of the barrier.

Suga turns and smiles widely, giving him the middle finger. 'You'd never throw me out, Danny. Don't even pretend you would.'

'I will one day,' he mutters, looking back out at the crowd for anyone else surfing.

Of course, no one else is. Suga only did it because it seemed funny to try and stage dive during a really slow song, in a room with less than fifty people in it. Akaashi had bet that he wouldn't dare, which was a pretty stupid thing to do with Suga; he should have known after even the short time they'd been acquainted, that there wasn't much that Suga wouldn't do.

Akaashi stands in the middle of the room, although it's the back of the crowd, and gives him a slow round of applause.

Suga theatrically bows, spinning his finger around as he does so. 'Why thank you, I aim to please.'

'You are a grade A dick.'

Suga points to the crowd. 'If I was a dick, those people would have let me fall. They love me, and so do you. Pay up.'

Akaashi crosses his arms. 'We never agreed on a bet! I just said you wouldn't do it.'

'Come on! At least buy me a drink. Let's get tequila shots.'

'I think you've had enough.'

'OK, compromise. What about a pint of water and a tequila slammer?'

Akaashi laughs with a snort. 'How is that a compromise?'

'Just is!' He slaps his backside, and slips behind him towards the corridor. 'Get them in, while I go to the loo.'

As he walks, people wave at him, call his name. He doesn't know who they all are, but he's probably met them in the past. That's just a consequence of having one of those faces, one of those personalities, he guesses. People meet him once, and think they know him, and he's too friendly to put them straight.

Right now, he doesn't stop to chat. He has to get to the toilet as quickly as possible, and he just hopes there's a free cubicle. He can't believe this is happening now, but if he's lucky, his instincts could be wrong.

Although they very rarely are.

There's one other man in there, at the urinal, and thankfully, all three cubicles are free. He chooses the one furthest from the door.

Carefully, he pulls down his trousers and underpants, and finds he was right to be worried, as a stain stares back at him.

'Fuck,' he says quietly under his breath. He does the mental arithmetic, and curses himself for not bringing anything with him. He shoves a wad of paper into his underwear, and flushes the toilet, just for show, before washing his hands and leaving.

The corridor is empty, almost everyone is watching the show. He knocks on the door next to the men's room, waits, and then pushes his way in.

He waits again, once inside, but doesn't hear anything. 'Hello?' he says, making his voice higher than its usual tone. There's no answer.

Quickly, he moves over to the machine, finding loose change in his pocket. He puts a pound against the slot, seeing the sign seconds before he lets the coin drop, and it comes back out in the slot at the bottom.

'Out of order' is scrawled across a piece of paper taped to the front of the machine, and Suga's exasperated cry of, 'Fuck,' is much louder this time.

He runs back out, before anyone comes in, and finds the corridor still empty. He has a moment to think about what to do, there's time, he tells himself, he doesn't need to rush.

The staff seems the first obvious choice, although that depends on who's working. As he walks towards the bar area, he begs the universe to give him one of the girls, or that cute dark haired one who never smiles. Basically, anyone other than the one with green hair would be perfect.

'Fuck,' he says for a third time, seeing a green fringe bobbing around among glasses hanging from above him.

'Suga! Where've you been hiding, gorgeous?' Suguru leans on one elbow and sticks a tongue out.

Suga puts up his hands in surrender. 'Hey. Listen, usually, I love this idiotic banter we have, and I promise next time, I'll give back as good as you give. But today, I haven't got the time, so please don't be a twat.'

'Aw, baby, why so cruel?' He leans over further, and tips Suga's chin up with the tip of his finger. 'What d'ya need?'

'Sanitary towel. The machine is bust. Please tell me there's someone here who has something?'

Suguru releases him, and shakes his head. ''Fraid not. Just me today.'

'Are there any girls you know here tonight?'

'Nope. There's hardly anyone in anyway, but no one I know. Not a popular band, I'm afraid.'

'You can say that again.' A lot of the gathering have already gone, and as Suga looks around, there's even less people than when he was crowd-surfing. The security have stopped even bothering to prowl the front row, there's so little movement.

Suga spots Akaashi looking for him, and raises a hand so he knows where he is, and gets a nod in return.

To his side, he senses movement, and looks up to see a tall-ish man, standing fairly closely to them, looking slightly shifty, but ultimately non-threatening.

At first glance, Suga gets an impression of Akaashi; his face is similar, particularly around the eyes, even though he's wearing a beanie pulled so far onto his head that his hair is pressed so it almost covers them. There's something harder there, in his expression; whether it's just that he knows Akaashi better so he seems softer, or maybe it's the angle of his eyebrows, drawn down over his nose.

'Urm, sorry to bother you. I couldn't help over-hearing.' He starts digging in the bag hanging across his body, lifting the flap covered in patches. 'I have... hang on, I know it's here somewhere.'

Suga watches, unsure of what's happening, whether this is a welcome development for his predicament or not. The other man looks up at him, smiles apologetically as he still shifts the contents of his bag around. Suga spots a headphone jack poking out, a bottle of orange pop, and then he pulls out a T-tool, before spotting what he's looking for wedged under it.

'Here!' He hands a small zippered pouch to Suga, who looks at it confused. It's printed all over with pink roses, a large Vans logo in the centre. 'It has what you need.'

Suga hesitates before he unzips the pouch, and inside finds a couple of tampons, three different sizes of sanitary towel, and a blister pack of pain killers. He looks up at his saviour, who's smiling very slightly. He isn't sure what to say, he's never felt quite so grateful to a stranger in his life. 'Thank you so much.'

'No problem.'

'Let me go and... use this, and then I'll bring it straight back. Promise.' He runs back to the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder as Suguru hands the stranger a bottle of beer, refusing payment.

When he returns, Akaashi is also now sitting at the bar, talking to the owner of the pouch; well, he's talking towards him, but not getting much in return.

They all look up, seemingly grateful for Suga's return. His good mood is back, helped by being able to remove the scratchy toilet roll from his underwear, and the effects of the painkillers, placebo though they might be right now.

'Please, let me pay you back for that,' he says to the stranger, handing back the pouch.

'No, please, it's fine.'

'At least let me buy you a drink?'

The stranger lifts his still half-full beer, and starts to turn him down, but Akaashi turns and says, 'Don't bother trying to say no, he'll never stop nagging you until you say yes. May as well give in now.'

'Well, I don't really need another drink, but I am quite hungry. Do they have snacks here?'

Suguru looks at him, making a pfft sound through pursed lips. 'We have crisps somewhere I think? No one has ever bought food here. Literally no one.'

'Maybe they would if you had anything, fuckwit.'

The stranger stifles a laugh at Suga, so he looks and smiles at him. 'Well, never mind. Maybe another time.' He stands up, and starts to walk away.

'Hang on!' Suga touches his arm, causing him to flinch slightly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. Urm, why don't we go and get some food? I'm not really in the mood to stay here anyway, this band are shit, and you know, the obvious reasons. I could really go for some chips. Or a kebab!'

'I told you, he won't take no for an answer,' Akaashi stands up. 'I fancy some food too, haven't had a kebab in ages.'

The stranger looks at them both in turn, a smirk growing on his face. 'I can't really leave until the band finishes. Urm, the drummer is my best friend.'

Akaashi nearly wets himself laughing, and Suga looks genuinely apologetic, probably for the first time in his life. 'I'm so sorry. You've been so nice, and all I've done is badger you, and then insult your friend.'

'It's alright. They are a bit shit, I never said I liked them. I do want to support Reon though, so I'm going to stay.'

'Akaashi's dating a drummer! What's his band again?'

'He's called Koutarou Bokuto,' Akaashi says, avoiding having to say the band's name. Suga pulls his phone out, and starts flicking through his photo album.

'No fucking way!' the stranger becomes suddenly animated. 'He's like, the best drummer I've ever seen! Fuck, Reon will be so jealous I met you!'

Akaashi laughs. 'I'm not him, you know.'

Suga holds his phone up for the stranger, showing him a picture of the three of them together on a night out; Bokuto is holding the phone at arm's length, pressing the side of Akaashi's face into his, with Suga pressing on the other side, doing a peace sign with his spare hand. 'Proof!'

'I believed you, I was just surprised.' He smiles, more than he has done yet. 'Is he as nice as he seems?'

Akaashi and Suga both say, 'Yes,' in unison, and then look at each other and laugh.

'I mean, he would say that, cause they're going out,' Suga says, pointing a thumb towards Akaashi, who's blushing slightly, 'But he really is a good bloke. Isn't he, Akaashi?'

'Well, I think so, obviously, but he does seem to get on with everyone.'

Suga closes his phone, and slaps a hand to his forehead. 'Hey, I just realised! We don't even know your name yet!'

'I'm Eita,' he says, holding out a hand.

'I'm Akaashi, and this is Suga,' he says, shaking the hand and gesturing to Suga who waves.

'Suga? Really?' He stills, looking more closely at Suga as he nods. 'This is a turn up. I'm more flattered than I thought I would be.'

'Eh?'

'I get mistaken for you. _A_ _lot_.' 

'People think you're me?' Suga's face betrays the genuine joy and surprise at being mistaken for Eita, and Akaashi can't help but grin. 'But you're so... tall. And stuff.'

Suga looks at Eita's athletic figure, sinewy arms, thick neck muscle, and is overwhelmed that someone, somewhere might think he looks like this, even a little bit. Eita even says it happens a lot.

Eita gives Suga an appraising look in return. 'I guess our hair is quite similar, but you're a bit shorter than me.'

He feels like crying that Eita has ignored their obvious differences, but just says, 'Our hair isn't that similar! Yours is dark, isn't it?' The visible ends poking out look almost black, and he has no idea why Eita thinks the hair might be what make people mistake him for Suga.

Eita just smiles, and pulls off his beanie, revealing a full head of ash blonde hair, the black just on the tips.

Akaashi laughs again, and shakes his head. He looks between them. 'It's really quite uncanny, you could be brothers.' He pulls at the hair on Suga's crown.' He even has a cowlick in the same place.'

By this time, Suguru has noticed Eita now has no hat on, and is pointing at them both and shouting, 'Oh my God, there are two of you! Witchcraft!'

There's a lull in the background music, so the three of them look towards the stage. The band have gone, but the lights are still down, presumably they think people might request an encore. From the silence in the room, and the groups of people walking towards the door, Suga thinks the concert is probably over.

'So, now it's quieter, I can hear you properly. I need answers. You know an awful lot of people, Suga,' says Eita, crossing his arms. 'Some of them are pretty mad at you, too. What on earth do you get up to in your free time?'

'Bit of this, bit of that,' he replies, waving a hand.

Akaashi butts in. 'He says he's a manga artist, but I've never actually seen any evidence of that.'

'I have a sketchbook!'

'It's empty,' he says sideways to Eita, who laughs.

'It's not! Anyway, I know the story, I just need to finish writing it.'

'What's it about?' Eita asks, finishing his beer.

'Skateboarders.'

'Ah. Probably why I keep being mistaken for you. I bet we travel in the same circles.'

'You skate?' Suga asks, knowing full well from the T-tool he probably does, but wanting to look like he wasn't nosing at the contents of his bag.

'I do indeed.'

'Cool! Me too! We should go skating together, sometime. I can probably introduce you to some big name skaters. Akaashi here works at Parklife.'

Eita looks at him, and nods. 'Nice one, I've seen that.'

'S'how you met Bokuto, right?' When Akaashi nods again, Suga turns back to Eita. 'He's a photographer for them.'

Eita quietly says, 'Small world,' before turning to the stage. 'I think that's it. I'm going to go and find Reon and tell him we're going for food. Can I invite him, if he wants to come?'

'Of course!' Suga says, enthusiastically, happy that Eita is going to let him treat him to food. The painkillers have kicked in, and after being worried he would have to bow out early, Eita's kindness means he's been able to stay and enjoy the evening.

'OK, I'll be as quick as possible.' He clenches a hand around Suga's forearm. 'Don't go anywhere.'

The look he gives Suga is more intense than strictly necessary, making him gulp. 'I won't.'

He turns and walks away quickly, the messenger bag now across his lower back, hands in pockets. Suga watches him go, stunned into silence.

Akaashi is first to speak. 'I cannot believe I just met Gabriel.'

Suga turns sideways, confused. 'Gabriel?'

'Yeah, that's what me and Chikara call him. 'Cause he looks like an angel. He's here a lot, I'm really shocked you've never seen him before.'

'Maybe I have and just never noticed him.' He stretches out his back, and sits down, rubbing the sides of his stomach and wincing.

'That's cause you're too busy making sure everyone else has noticed  _you_ .' He sits next to Suga, and rubs his shoulder. 'Everything OK?'

'Yeah, just stomach ache.'

He looks at him with sympathy. 'How did you even get talking to him, anyway?'

'Funny story...' he says, and proceeds to fill Akaashi in on how he met Eita.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Eita's hat is pulled back over his fringe by the time he finally finds Reon backstage, sitting in a corner. He lifts his chin in greeting, but Reon looks crestfallen and barely acknowledges he's there.

'Hey, been looking for you. I've been invited for food. Do you want to come?'

Reon shakes his head, still not looking up. Eita doesn't usually see him like this; he's usually the friend in the group cheering everyone else up, and he's the only person capable of bringing Satori down from an annoyingly high mood.

He's unsure of what to do. Eita isn't quite as effortlessly caring as Reon. He does care about his friends, he just doesn't have such a natural way of showing it. What he does have is a bag, which may or may not have some snacks in it, if he digs deep enough. It's always easier for him to dig into his bag, than into his friend's moods.

'Do you want some sweets?' he says, holding out a bag he's found in one of the pockets.

Ignoring the outstretched bag, Reon says, 'Be honest. It was terrible, wasn't it?'

Eita chews one of the sweets himself, desperately thinking of how to answer while his mouth is occupied. Yes, it was terrible, his instinct shouts. But really, Reon wasn't bad at all. He's just found himself in a band with other people who aren't that good.

'You were good,' Eita finally says, non-committally.

'We're no Small Giant though.'

'Who is, though? Around here, I mean.'

Reon groans. 'We'll never be at their level.' His head drops into his hands, and Eita sneaks a look at his watch.

'Do you need me to stay?' Reon shakes his head. 'Is Waka coming to pick you up?' This time he nods. 'You don't mind if I go and get a kebab?'

'A kebab?' He turns and stares at Eita. 'Really?'

Eita shrugs. 'Yeah. I helped a guy out, and he wanted to repay me.'

'What did you do?' He's smiling for the first time, and Eita feels a little better about leaving him.

'Oh, he needed painkillers,' he says, standing up and scrunching the bag of sweets closed. 'You want these leaving?'

When Reon shakes his head again, he shoves them back in his bag and closes it, before waving as he walks away. He trusts that Ushijima will be on time, will pick Reon up and bring him round to his old self again. He always does.

Walking back to the bar, he sees the rest of the band, and nods at them without stopping. He's only met them a couple of times, and hasn't really hit it off with them. The trouble with Reon being a drummer is that there are way more guitarists and singers, and he's been in a fair few bands, which have all ended up collapsing in on themselves. But Reon never gives up, he has a lot of respect for him for that.

Eita would have given up himself, more than once, without Reon's encouragement, so it's only fair that he supports him in return when he can. He's never missed a gig, even when Ushijima can't make it cause of work, Eita is always there. Of course, he's not as busy as Ushijima, at least not yet, but the interview he has scheduled over the weekend will probably help with that.

He's happy to see his new friends still waiting for him at the bar, sitting on tall stools, chatting; Suga's smile in particular is wide and toothy, his eyes closing into slits, and Eita wishes his face would fall into a smile like that without so much effort.

Eita imagines what it would be like if his smile made people feel as good as Suga's makes him feel.

'Ready to go?' Akaashi says, shrugging on a red scarf.

Suga points a finger at the space next to Eita. 'Friend not coming?'

'No, Waka's picking him up.'

'Waka? As in Wakatoshi Ushijima?' Akaashi and Suga look at each other and then back at Eita.

'Mm-hmm,' he says, nodding.

'As in, the inventor of the Ushiwaka Flip?'

Eita softly laughs through his nose. 'He hates that name. But yeah, that's him.'

'Fucking hell, man, you must think I'm such a tool!' Suga says, much too loudly considering there isn't any background music any more. 'Here's me saying, “Oh, let me introduce you to some skaters”,' he puts on a silly voice, mocking himself, 'And all the time you know Wakatoshi bleeding Ushijima.'

Eita looks at Suga, and it was honestly the last thing he thought when Suga suggested he introduced him to some skateboarders; all he'd thought was how thoughtful that was, to extend a hand of friendship to someone you barely know, and how he liked knowing that he might want to spend more time with him. 'Not at all,' is all he says.

'He's seriously one of the best Tech skaters I've ever seen,' Akaashi says.

'He's top ten, for sure,' Suga agrees.

'Top three, last season.'

Suga's chuckle is like a wind-chime. 'You know any other pro skaters, then?'

He does, of course, but he doesn't really want to talk about that tonight. He's in a good mood, now, Suga and Akaashi don't need to know anything else. 'Not really. Are we still going for that kebab?'

'Yes!' Suga jumps to his feet from his cross-legged position, and Akaashi steadies him as he wobbles. He rubs his calf through his striped trousers, saying, 'Oops, cramp.'

Akaashi leads them all to his car just outside. Eita doesn't know much about cars, but he can tell he's not going to fit into the back seat of this one.

'You want the front seat?' Suga turns and asks. 'Your legs are longer than mine.'

'Oh. Yes, thank you.'

He leans the front seat forward, and climbs in, pulling it back into position, before shuffling over to sit behind the driver's seat. Once Eita is in position, he pulls across the seat-belt and catches Suga's eye as he clicks it in place, and is almost blinded by that smile again.

Akaashi looks at Suga in the rear view mirror. 'Where do you want to go?'

'Cyprus. Obviously.' He turns to Eita. 'It's the only place that does a decent chicken kebab.'

'A chicken kebab isn't a real kebab, how many more times?'

The short drive there gives Eita plenty of evidence of how well the two of them get on, in a similar way to himself and Reon. Akaashi is the bigger brother of this pair, he talks to Suga in the same way Reon talks to him. It's familiar, comfortable, definitely more comfortable than the front seat of this mini anyway.

Cyprus turns out to be a kebab shop just down the road from The Junction, coincidentally close to Eita's home. Akaashi finds a parking spot close by, which Suga is enthusiastic about. Eita is beginning to see that Suga is enthusiastic about pretty much everything, and he's finding it unbelievably infectious.

They pile out of the mini and find a table inside the kebab shop. The tables and chairs are matching orange, moulded plastic, the kind no one sits in to actually eat their kebab, just wait for them. Akaashi sits in the corner, holding the table for them, telling Suga what to order for him.

'Eita? What would you like?' Suga asks him.

'Urm, I'll come to the counter and see.'

There's an array of different types of kebabs, but he can't see the type he's looking for. Suga has already ordered a lamb one for Akaashi, and a chicken one for himself, and is now looking expectantly at Eita.

He leans over the counter slightly, and asks quietly, 'Do you have a vegetarian one?'

'Sorry?'

'A vegetarian kebab. Do you have one?'

'I can do you veggie, no problem. Take a seat, take a seat!'

Suga pays, waving away the contents of Eita's wallet, and they sit down with Akaashi, opposite each other, and Suga gives everyone a can of drink.

Suga huffs through his smile. 'Why didn't you say you're vegetarian? We could have gone somewhere else!'

'I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm not vegetarian, anyway, I eat fish, just not meat.'

'Is that a pescetarian?' says Akaashi.

'Hmm, probably,' Eita says, looking up at him, 'I don't think I'd want to use that word though. Sounds a bit wanky.'

Suga laughs, and Eita wonders if there's ever a time he doesn't laugh or smile. It comes so easily to him, it must be like breathing, and as Eita thinks again about what that must be like, his mouth lifts at one corner. He's worrying that describing what Akaashi said as a bit wanky has ruined the atmosphere, but then the other two start a conversation about something else, and the feeling fades.

'So, what's Bokuto doing tonight?' Suga asks, pulling his feet up onto the seat and propping his chin on his knees.

'He's got a gig in Manchester and another one in Leeds this weekend. So I won't be seeing him until Monday.'

'You miss him when he's touring?' he says, drinking from his can.

'Yeah,' he breathes out.

'Been with him a while now, right?'

'Hmm, about three months.'

Suga turns to Eita, bringing him into the conversation. 'They met at that gig when Bokuto's band supported Small Giant. You heard of them?'

Eita swallows his drink with a large gulp. Yes, he's heard of them, and he really doesn't want to talk about it. He knows exactly which night that was, and not thinking about it has been his goal ever since. 'Think so.'

'They're pretty good.' He points at Akaashi with his thumb. 'His ex went out with the bass player for a bit.'

'Can you not refer to Chikara as my ex? Plus, he didn't go out with Kenji.' Akaashi talks directly to Eita. 'He's such a gossip, don't tell him anything you don't want everyone else in Cambridge to know, will you?'

'I'm not a gossip! Don't tell him that...'

Thankfully, the man behind the counter shouts that their food is ready, so Eita removes himself from the conversation to fetch it. With his back to the other two, he takes a few deep breaths, and hopes they'll move away from talking about Small Giant by the time he gets back.

–

Suga takes two of the boxes from Eita, and looks in them before sharing them out between him and Akaashi.

Eita opens his own box opposite him. 'Oh.'

'Something wrong?' Suga says, trying to manoeuvre his kebab into his mouth.

'Yeah, I was just expecting something else. It's fine.'

'What is it? Veggie patty? Quorn?'

'Salad.'

'And?'

'That's it. Salad.'

'Salad? That's not a veggie kebab!' Akaashi sounds outraged, Suga has just started giggling.

'It's fine,' Eita says, taking a bite of bread and mostly lettuce. Some sliced red onions and halved cherry tomatoes slip out, making Suga sputter.

'Do you want me to complain?' Akaashi says, still frowning.

'No it's fine, thank you though. It still tastes alright.'

Suga tries to stop laughing, but watching Eita scowling at his pitta bread filled with what's normally just a garnish and some chilli sauce, he finds it difficult to not see the ridiculousness in the situation, especially as Eita's face is so serious.

'I'm so sorry I dragged you here for... a salad sandwich.' He gives a final splutter, and turns it into what he hopes is a warm smile.

Eita smiles back, putting his kebab back in the box. 'Honestly, Suga, it's fine. I'm not that hungry.' He starts looking in his bag, and pulls out some sweets, untwisting the top of the bag and taking one, before holding it out across the table.

Still smiling, Suga takes one, and holds it up to look at it. It's a red gummy sweet, shaped like a fish, the word 'Swedish' embossed across the middle, for some reason. 'What _is_ this?'

'Swedish Fish. You never had them?'

'Nope.'

Eita eats another, and places the bag on the tabletop. 'Please, help yourself.'

Suga sits chewing on his chicken kebab in one hand, still holding the Swedish Fish in the other, and looks at Akaashi, grinning. He looks back confused, saying, 'What?'

'I'm just...thinking. This time last year, I was in a dead-end job, thinking about writing a manga about skateboarders. And now, I'm sitting here, eating a kebab, with two stunning men, one of them knows a famous skateboarder, the other one's dating a famous musician. I mean...what even is my life these days?'

Akaashi finishes off his kebab. 'One day we'll get to say we know a famous manga artist. You just need to draw something first.'

'I _have_ drawings, you know. They're just not ready.'

'How many pages?'

'Well, not finished pages. But I have my main characters sketched out.'

'I'd like to see them, sometime,' Eita says softly.

Akaashi scoffs. 'Wouldn't we all?'

Suga screws up his nose at Akaashi. Along with his character sheets, he does actually have six finished pages, as well as a fully written script, and a rough story board, but he's never shown anything to anyone. They've all stopped asking him, since he pretends he hasn't done anything yet. It's too early to show them, and frankly, he doesn't know if he ever can.

He hasn't told them what kind of manga he's drawing, he's vaguely embarrassed by it. It started out as a story about sport, but then once he started drawing the characters, his inclination towards bishie boys overwhelmed anything else, and before he knew it, he was writing a 'boy love' story instead. It's made it harder to show people, what with all the pretty boys' shirts lifting as they jump, hard abs on show, and the couple of kissing scenes he's drawn; even though they come much later in the story, he just couldn't wait to draw them.

'It's nowhere near finished,' is all Suga says.

'Well, whenever you're ready,' says Eita, 'I'd love to see anything you have.' He half-cocks his smile at Suga, who takes a mental picture for drawing later, for when he needs a shy, encouraging smile for one of his characters.

'You going to eat that?' Akaashi says, pointing to Eita's food. When he shakes his head, Akaashi picks it up. 'No point wasting it.'

'We should swap numbers!' Suga says, pulling his phone out, creating a contact with Eita's name before passing it to him. 'Put your number in there for me.'

Eita taps in his number, and then his own phone rings. 'And now I have your number,' he says, declining the call he made to his own phone. He checks the time. 'I'd better get home. I have a long day tomorrow.'

'Oh. OK.'

'I'll text you though, maybe? About doing something next week?'

If Suga could see his own face, he could remember the expression he makes; it would be the perfect model for one of his own bashful skateboarders in the first flushes of a crush. Trouble is, even if he could see himself, he wouldn't admit that's what this expression is, not for a long time.

  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

Ennoshita peers over Akaashi's shoulder at the photos from his most recent shoot. 'Fuck me, is that who I think it is?'

'Yep. Oh that reminds me, I didn't see you straightaway, so I forgot to tell you,' Akaashi says, looking over his shoulder, 'I met Gabriel.'

'You met Gabriel and didn't tell me immediately? What the hell, Keiji!'

'You were out,' he says, not taking his eyes off the screen, 'And I knew you wouldn't answer.'

Ennoshita throws himself into his chair, booting up his computer. 'I would have! If I knew it was that.'

He turns and pointedly looks at him, one eyebrow raised. 'And how would you have known without answering? Anyway, it's too complicated to just tell you over the phone, and you were away the whole weekend. At Yuuji's, I assume?'

'I forgive you.' He starts typing, avoiding Akaashi's eye.

He peers at his flatmate, wondering at what point on a Monday morning is socially acceptable to ask important questions, before deciding that just after ten is good enough. 'Things going OK?'

Ennoshita sighs, apparently not au fait with the same rules. 'It's too early to ask shit like that.'

'Tell me later?'

'Maybe. At least let me get coffee first.'

Akaashi opens up the image he's decided to use for the article, and begins editing the photograph he took of Eita.

*

'Wow, small world!' Akaashi said, as Eita walked through the door to Number Four.

Eita smiled, almost, as he stood opposite. 'Isn't it?'

'Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm actually working right now. Waiting to do an interview. So I can't really talk.'

'It's me.'

'Sorry?'

'I'm your interview.' He sat down opposite Akaashi, and took off his jacket, pooling it on top of his bag on the floor.

'You're Semisemi?'

'One and the same.'

'Jeez. It really is a small world.' He held a hand in the air, waving over Yukie.

'I wondered if it might be you when Suga said you worked on the magazine. Thought you were a photographer though.'

'When it's these short profile things, they usually send me, and I just do both.' He ordered himself a coffee and some cake, and invited Eita to do the same. Yukie walked off to fetch it, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she did.

'Thanks.'

'It's on the magazine,' Akaashi smiled. 'I have a whole list of questions, but they're kind of redundant now.'

'I'm sure I've heard them all before.'

'And not answered them.'

'Exactly.'

Akaashi sighed. 'So how do we do this then?'

'Just ask what you were going to ask. Nothing's changed.' Eita's expression was steady, not annoyed, but giving nothing away either.

Akaashi set up his digital dictaphone on the table, and pressed record. 'So. What's your real name?'

'Semisemi is all I'll ever give. And I trust you'll respect that?'

'Of course. Is there any point asking how old you are? Where you come from?'

Eita shook his head. 'Most people guess I'm in my twenties, which is fine.'

He took a deep breath before asking the next question. He knew already what his answer would be, it was always the same. 'Why do you wear a mask?'

'Why not? That's my official answer, anyway. But off the record...'

Before he could elaborate, Yukie brought over their order. Eita immediately opened a packet of sugar, adding it to his tea. There was a moment of silence just after she left, neither wanting to break the tension. Akaashi was desperate for him to finish that sentence, but didn't want to upset the balance. He sipped at his black coffee instead, burning the roof of his mouth.

He sucked through his teeth. 'Hot. I always drink it too soon.' He put the cup back down. 'You were saying?'

'Hmm? Oh, yeah. The mask. When I started, I was embarrassed about how rubbish I was, so I just wore a mask so no one would know who I was. Then as I got better, it just became a habit. And then now, well, it's a trademark. But that's not an interesting answer, really.' He laughed through his nose. 'There's no interesting answer to anything you're going to ask. That's why I have set answers.'

'Why did you choose that particular mask?'

Eita leant his head on one side, and pulled a face. 'Isn't that obvious? Come on, Akaashi, we're both adults.'

'Suga thinks it's something to do with some manga.'

Eita laughed, for the first time since arriving. 'Oh, bless him. Is he always so innocent?'

'I imagine it's just cause that's what you had lying around at home?'

Eita pointed both fingers at him, clicking his tongue. 'Got it in one.' He drank some tea, a small smile still on his lips. 'You have any other questions?'

'Just a couple. Favourite trick?'

'Fakie Beta Flip. It's just so elegant, and looks simple, but it actually takes a lot of mastery.'

'Favourite skateboarder?'

'Rodney Mullen. He's a genius. He said something once about how there's no teams or captains in skateboarding, and it really struck a chord. It's not really competitive, even though it is. It's more about creativity.'

'What about local skaters?' Akaashi broke off a chunk of his cinnamon bun and waved it towards Eita. 'There's a big scene here, why not choose one of them?'

Eita paused, still drinking his tea, giving Akaashi time to eat the bun. When he eventually spoke, it was quiet and considered. 'None of them have inspired me like Mullen.'

'OK, so who do you rate locally then? Who's the best around here? Apart from Ushijima, of course.'

'There's no competition for Ushijima, not around here.'

'What about Satori Tendou? Doesn't he come up with almost as many special moves as Mullen?'

At this, Eita stiffened, and put down his cup. 'When Tendou is at his best, he's phenomenal. But his best sometimes isn't good enough. He's no match for Ushijima.' He picked up a fork to eat the cake he'd ordered, but before starting said, 'I'd prefer if that section was also off the record, please.'

Although confused, Akaashi agreed immediately. He left Eita to his cake, and scanned the questions he'd written down. He hadn't really got any new information out of Eita, but then again, no one ever did.

He arrived on the scene a couple of years ago, performing a ridiculously perfect Gazelle flip on his YouTube channel. It stood out, not only because of the flawless execution, but because the bottom half of his face was completely obscured by a black ski mask, with metal bars across where the mouth should be, and leather straps holding it up over his head. The cherry on the cake was the way the trick was shown from multiple angles, and in slow motion. The local skateboarding community was buzzing from the first moment it was shared on Twitter.

Once it made its way to, and was shared by, Tanaka, every skater in England saw it, and they all wanted to know where he'd come from. His channel was called Semisemi, so that's what they all called him, and he never came online to contradict them. In fact, he didn't really come online to do anything except share impeccable videos.

Eventually he started placing in competitions, but he would never bask in any limelight. He competed, and then he left, rarely giving interviews. No one seemed to know his real identity, and he always wore the same mask, even when competing.

Akaashi had no idea how Daichi had managed to snag an interview, but it seemed that his new boyfriend, a bandmate of Bokuto's, must know someone who knew someone who knew someone else... and Akaashi was lucky enough to be given the job.

Eita had almost finished, both his cake, and the interview if his face was anything to go by.

'Do you have your mask? For the photo?'

Eita nodded. 'We need to take it in private, obviously. There's an alleyway behind the cafe, I looked on the way in. We can go there.' There was no suggestion in his voice, it was an order.

'Can I ask something off the record?'

Eita looked suspicious, but nodded all the same. 'Go on.'

'Why don't you want people to know who you are? Are you still embarrassed?'

He fixed him with a stare, his voice chillingly serious. 'Not at all. When I'm skateboarding, I'm  _free_ . I don't want anyone to ever take that away. So I don't let anyone know who I am.'

*

'I can't believe you met Semisemi. You get anything from him?' Ennoshita asks, sidling up behind Akaashi with a second cup of coffee.

'Nothing new.'

'Is he a dick? Or just shy? Or what?'

Akaashi looks at the photograph he's finished editing while Ennoshita has been waking himself up with caffeine. Eita, or rather Semisemi, is crouched in the alleyway on top of a pile of wooden palettes. His mask is in place, covering the entire bottom half of his face, the metal bars glinting. His hair is also covered, partly by a black beanie, partly by leather straps coming from the top of the mask. His eyes are barely visible behind the black fronds of hair poking out.

There's an impression of only black; different textures, slight variations, but black on black from head to toe. The only colour comes from his sharply slanting eyes, and even then they're deep brown, the barest of white visible.

'He's ... intense,' is all Akaashi can think to say, before he changes subject. 'You ready to talk about Yuuji yet?'

'He's … also intense,' he says, and Akaashi can see the unease in his smile.

He tilts his head at Ennoshita. 'In a bad way?'

'No, not really.' He drinks some coffee. 'Have you ever had a boyfriend who collects relationship souvenirs?'

'That's very broad. Do you mean, like, snow globes? Or something sinister? Like toenails?'

Ennoshita is thoughtful for a moment, which worries Akaashi, until he says, 'Maybe halfway? Cinema tickets. Chopsticks. That kind of thing.'

'That's worryingly normal, considering your reaction.'

'He also... he prints out text conversations we've had.'

'That's adorable.'

'Is it?'

'Of course!'

Ennoshita starts picking at the edge of his empty coffee cup, peeling off layers of the paper. 'Maybe it's what he said about it.'

'Want to talk about it?' Akaashi says, lightly tapping the back of his hand, to stop his picking.

'He said,' he sighs before he's really started even explaining. 'He said he looks at them to remember I care about him.'

Akaashi just laughs. 'You  _are_ pretty hopeless at telling people.'

'Am I?'

He takes Ennoshita by the shoulder, squeezing it gently, and looking into his face, trying to be as gentle as possible with the truth. 'You're bad at telling people, but you do show it. I just think Yuuji might not be very good at seeing it. Don't put all the blame on yourself.'

'He did say something like that.'

'I think Yuuji and Koutarou are similar in some ways, that's why I noticed it. The other week when we went out, he had a lot of questions about you. Things I'm sure he already knows. He needs a lot of reassuring, so if you care about him...'

'I really do.'

'...Then you should be prepared for that.'

Ennoshita puts a hand on Akaashi's shoulder, a genuine smile splitting his face. 'Thanks, Keij. That's really helpful. Now, then. You need to tell me all about Gabriel.'

Which he does, sparing no details – except of course for Eita's real name.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, here's the photo of Eita - [link to tumblr](http://pesky33.tumblr.com/post/163364239203/masked-skater)


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as he sees him looming behind the door, he says loudly, 'Suga, no.'

'Suga, yes.' He completely ignores him, and pushes open the glass door separating him from Ennoshita. 'As your knight in shining armour, I demand attention at all times.'

He resigns himself to a few minutes talking to Suga, in the hope that it'll be quicker than arguing with him about being too busy and then having to talk to him anyway. He even removes his glasses, and puts them in their case, giving Suga less things to grab off him and fiddle with as they talk.

'OK, but just for a while, and then I have to work.'

He sits cross-legged on the chair behind Akaashi's desk. 'How's Yuuji?'

'Thanks for the visit,' Ennoshita says, turning back to his computer and pretending to start typing again.

'Don't be like that!'

He turns back around, of course he does. 'He's fine.'

'Nah, he's not. What's up?' Suga asks, clicking the end of the biro he's managed to conjure up from the detritus on Akaashi's desk.

'I'm a nobhead.'

'What'd'you do?'

'Nothing, that's why I'm a nobhead.' He digs around in his own desk drawer, until he finds the small rubber cube covered in buttons he keeps for when he's stressed, and walks over to swap it with the biro.

Suga looks at it, and experimentally clicks one of the buttons on the side. Ennoshita breathes a sigh of relief when he carries on clicking it; he can still hear it but it's quieter than the pen. 'Cool. Thanks. So what did you not do that you should have done? Buying the milk?'

Ennoshita wishes it was that simple, cause he can solve a lack of dairy products. He doesn't particularly want to share everything with Suga, especially now he's friends with Yuuji online. 'It'll be fine. I'll work it out. Just a difference of opinion.'

'Whatever it is, do it. Unless it's weird tentacle sex shit or something.' He turns the cube over, and finds a noisier button which pleases him more. 'Even then, maybe you should.'

'Not everything is about sex, Suga.'

'Sure. I'm sure this problem is _nothing_ to do with sex. Except it is, somewhere along the line. Everything always is.'

Suga might be a lot of things, but he was also pretty perceptive. He talked a lot of nonsense, but there was often truth hidden there.

Was that actually the issue? That they hadn't had sex yet? It had certainly been a problem when he hadn't kissed Yuuji until they'd been going out for more than sixty days. He had to have it spelled out that time, too.

'When are you seeing him?' Suga asks, finally tiring of the cube and flipping through a magazine instead.

'Tomorrow. I'm spending the weekend over there again.'

'Would you like to borrow my tentacle dildo?'

Ennoshita looks at him, trying to work out whether Suga is being serious, and a little curious as to whether such a thing actually exists. 'Urm...'

'I'm joking, tiger, don't look so scared.'

'Ah. Phew.'

'No one gets to borrow my Kona...'

He looks up quickly, relieved to see Suga still grinning at him. 'Funny. What were you after anyway? You haven't said. Is it just the usual? Annoy me, flirt with Daichi, steal anything not nailed down?'

'Something like that.' He holds up the magazine. 'So. Can I have this?'

'Any point in me saying no?'

'Thanks. Would it be too teenage to put this photo in my wallet?' He points to the picture of Semisemi printed with the article. 'He's so hot.'

'You can't even see his face.'

'I can see his _thighs_ I don't need to see his face.' His eye is caught by the movement of the large red door in the centre of the back wall. 'Speaking of thighs...' He stands, and pulls at his shorts, runs a hand through his hair, pats the corners of his mouth with a finger end.

Ennoshita is used to this mating ritual of Suga's. It's calmed down a little since Daichi started dating Kuroo, but he still acts like this whenever Daichi appears. He notes Suga has more eyeliner on than usual, and a lick of gloss over his lips. They all tell him he needs to give up, that Daichi doesn't see him like that, but he still persists. If only Suga understood that Daichi doesn't even realise he's flirting at all, hasn't even noticed his crush; in his determination to see Suga as his true self, he fails to notice anything else about him.

Seeing Daichi leave his office, Ennoshita gets his glasses out and goes back to work; his boss' presence means Suga will leave him alone for a while at least.

'Daichi! Hello, treasure.'

'Hey! Haven't seen you in a while,' he says, going over and punching the top of Suga's arm. 'Oh good, you got a magazine.'

'I did, thank you. How is Kuroo?'

Ennoshita turns around in surprise, and his expression is mirrored on Daichi's face as well. 'He – He's good. Thanks.' His smile is warm, genuine.

Daichi turns away, and only Ennoshita hears Suga mutter, 'Not fallen off any bridges lately, then.'

'What was that?'

'Nothing! So, is he going away on tour soon? Must get lonely.'

'A bit. Lucky I have such good friends to keep me company.' He ruffles Suga's hair, dislodging a grip holding a strand in place. Daichi notices, and tucks it back in. The whole time, Suga stares at him, and Ennoshita is torn between feeling sorry for him and wanting to tell him off for being so brazen about not liking Kuroo.

'We should have lunch next time he's away.' There's a purr in Suga's voice which makes Ennoshita flinch.

'Yeah, that'd be good. Office outing.'

'I don't work here, Dai.'

'Don't you? Could have sworn you did.' He smiles again, nudging him. 'You're here more than Kenma. Where is he today, anyway?'

Ennoshita turns in his chair. 'Working from home on a review.'

'And where's everyone else?'

'Akaashi's at lunch. Three guesses who with.' He peers over at the other empty desk. 'I don't know where Tadashi is... haven't seen him today.' He scratches his nose with the back of his hand, pulling his eyebrows over his nose, before turning his chair back to face the screen.

The sound of obnoxious K-pop blasts through the office, and Suga gets his phone out. 'Sorry! I'll take it out there,' he says, walking into the kitchen area. 'Eita?'

'Chikara, can you try and keep an eye on your staff please?'

'He's out for lunch with Kei. I told him he could,' he says quietly, 'They don't want it getting out.'

'Oh, I see. No problem at all. I'll get back to work. Say goodbye to Suga for me.'

'Will do.'

–

Eita hangs up, a little concerned about the turn events have taken. He and Suga have been texting back and forth for the last few days, ever since they went for the kebab. It's easy to talk to him, he has such wide interests there's always some overlap. He guesses it's due to his writing, maybe the way Suga is interested in everything. Well, _everyone_ , it's more the people behind the hobbies or trivia he likes.

So when Suga suggested they go to the cinema together, of course he jumped at the chance. Things had been going well, he had no reason not to agree.

However, getting into town faster than he expected, due to a neighbour offering him a lift, meant he had to ring and see if Suga wanted to meet earlier. When he turned down Suga's suggestion of meeting at the skate park, he further complicated things by suggesting picking him up at the magazine's office instead.

He tried to think of a way to suggest somewhere else, just in case Akaashi was there, but he was already promised discretion anyway. He gave in and got the address.

He finds it easily enough, and presses the buzzer next to the label for the third floor office.

The intercom fizzes to life with a quiet voice saying, 'Parklife, can I help you?'

'Oh, hi. I'm meeting Suga.' He decides to try his luck. 'Can you send him down?'

'Hey, is that Eita?' Suga's voice sounds in the background behind the quieter person who answered. 'Come up! Press it then, chickpea.'

There's a loud buzz, the voices disappear, and the door clicks. He gives in, again, and makes his way up the stairs.

It's easy to find the office, as each floor is a separate business. The entire floor is one enormous space, divided by glass walls, with one wooden slatted wall along one side. There's a red door in the middle, and he assumes that area belongs to someone important, probably the editor.

Suga bounces over as soon as he's through the door. Immediately he can sense this Suga is different to the usual one, even though he's only met him once. He moves and talks like there's something wriggling under his skin.

He takes Eita's wrist and walks towards the only other person in the room, chattering the whole time. As he turns to introduce Eita to Ennoshita, he's happy to note it can't be this person that's causing Suga his unease; he speaks to him like he's a good friend, which becomes obvious once he explains this is Akaashi's room-mate.

'Here you go,' Suga says giving him a magazine from the pile next to the desk. 'Pop it in your rucksack for later.'

He already has a copy, but having to explain why he has an early copy won't be easy. He can just give it to someone. 'Thanks. Is this OK?' he asks Ennoshita, who just waves a hand and carries on typing.

'He's working hard, he's not being rude. He has to work harder today cause he lost all his staff.'

Eita grins back at Suga; he still isn't quite how he remembers him, but it's closer. Eita wonders if it's the extra make-up, but looking at him again, it's more likely to be the clothes. Suga has on a pair of shorts, over patterned tights, with velcro fastened pumps. It accentuates the curve of his hips, making Eita frown without meaning to.

'Y'alright?' Suga interrupts his own stream of chatter to ask.

'Yeah. Shall we go?' The discomfort is rubbing off on him, and he feels weird in this space. He feels like a liar, for a start, because the magazine Suga is holding is folded around on itself so his interview is visible. There's something else lingering though, but he has no idea what.

'Let me just go say goodbye to Daichi,' he says, walking off. He walks off with a sway of his hips, and Eita is still frowning.

Ennoshita calls after him, 'He told me to say goodbye for him!' but Suga doesn't hear him, or maybe feigns not hearing. Eita looks over at Ennoshita, who's shaking his head.

They look away from each other awkwardly, until there's a prickling under his skin as he hears Suga say, 'Come and meet Eita!'

Suga's hand grips his left wrist, and pulls him over. 'This is Daichi, the editor. Daichi, this is my new friend, Eita.' There's a lilt to Suga's voice as he says friend, and Eita suddenly knows what's going on; he's being dangled as bait, which means Suga is trying to make this Daichi jealous, which leaves him with only one conclusion to draw.

He shakes the hand Daichi is extending to him, as he says, 'Hey Eita, good to meet you.'

He nods, and Suga speaks before he can. 'We're going to the cinema,' he says, still hanging onto Eita's wrist.

'Cool. Have a great time, you two.' He turns to Eita, with a solemn face, which he realises after a second of fear is only made in jest. 'You look after our Suga. Don't bring him back too late. And don't let him eat too many Revels.' He winks, and puts a hand on Suga's shoulder.

Suga blushes, and Eita knows his suspicion is true. 'Don't worry. I'll take good care of him.'

Suga snaps his head up to look at Eita, still blushing from Daichi's proximity, and smiles in the most genuine way he has since Eita arrived. He likes this smile more than the unfamiliar lip-glossed one he got when he got there.

Before they leave the office, Suga lets his gaze linger on Daichi's back as he passes through the red door. Eita looks away, troubled, and finds Ennoshita staring directly at him, eyebrows raised.

He's still trying to decide if it's an unspoken understanding or a wordless question as he's dragged away by Suga.

With every step away from the office, the tension crumbles away a little more, until the atmosphere is back to the lightness he remembers. Suga's laugh peals easily again, as he points out characters he recognises from all the times he's walked this street, leading from the magazine offices back into town.

The weight of disappointment in Eita's chest lifts at the same time; he likes this Suga, and the one he met at the concert, much more than the one from the magazine's office.

–

At the roundabout on the corner of the park, Eita stops at the usual pathway, and asks, 'Can we nip into Parrot?'

'Course! We've got a while until the film starts.'

'What is it again?' he says, as they cross the road.

'Urm, it's about an arthritic artist.'

'Oh.'

'That OK?'

'Yeah. I guess.'

Suga leans forward and peers into Eita's face. 'It's fine if it's not OK. We can see something else. I think that war thing is on?'

'No, you choose. I'll choose next time.'

'Ooooh, next time. Excellent. No one usually wants to come with me.'

Eita's attention is taken by something in the window of the pub as they pass it, but he turns quickly around to face Suga. 'Why? You don't talk the whole time do you?'

'No, no. Well. I try hard not to talk. Thing is, I fidget a lot.' He pulls the cube out of his pocket and holds it up. 'I stole this from Chikara though, so we should be fine, today. If I annoy you, tell me, I've heard it all before.'

As Eita takes the cube off him to get a closer look, they arrive at the record shop. Eita holds the glass door open, still studying the cube.

'Does it help?' he asks, passing it back to Suga who pockets it.

'Yeah, kind of. I've always had a lot of, urm, nervous energy I suppose is the best word for it.'

They make their way to new arrivals, Suga nodding a hello to the staff behind the counter. He's not usually interested in looking through records, but he stands next to Eita and looks through the row next to him. He actually finds it fulfils his desire to fiddle, flipping through the plastic sleeves containing second hand vinyl.

He also likes standing close to Eita, their arms brushing as they rifle through the records in relative silence. Every now and again, Eita will pick up a record, and look at the back, but Suga contents himself with the cover images.

He points out designs he likes, and Eita laughs at the band. In return, Eita asks if he's heard certain albums, none of which he has. There's never any judgement of what he hasn't; Eita simply says that he should either try it, or that maybe he wouldn't like it anyway.

'I love this album.' He holds up an album with a black and white photo of three girls on the front. 'Dolly Mixture.'

'How Come You're Such a Hit With the Boys, Jane,' Suga reads off the tracklisting on the back. 'Oh my God, that's such a meme, I love it!'

Eita looks confused, but takes it back off him, and puts it back in the rack. 'I have it, if you want a copy?'

'Will I like it?'

'I don't know. I mean. What do you like?'

'Bit of everything.'

'What's your favourite song right now?'

'I don't know the name. It's in Japanese. Not sure of the band. It goes like this. Origami, ah, karaoke, ah,' he sings, while doing an action with his hands like he's riding a horse.

Eita's face doesn't change as he points at his hands and says, 'What's all that about?'

'They do it in the video. Ah ah ah ah-ah,' he continues, putting a hand on his forehead and leaning over, with another hand spread out behind him.

The side of Eita's mouth curls upwards when Suga dabs and then smiles up at him. 'Can't say I've heard that one.'

Suga giggles, a little embarrassed. 'Well. What's your favourite one at the minute?'

'I've been rediscovering old 90s bands.'

'I'd definitely like to hear some of that'

Eita looks at him and smiles, and Suga feels a pulse in his chest from somewhere. It's not often he smiles, but when he does, it's radiant. 'Next time.'

They carry on looking through a couple more racks, until Suga checks his phone and says they need to go to the cinema. It's not far, but as it's a small one, they don't want to get there after it's sold out. They make their way along the main street before turning into the road housing the arts cinema.

On one of the buildings just before the cinema, Suga points out a neon sign, the outline of a man eating noodles. 'What's that?'

Eita peers at the building. 'It's Wagamama's.'

'What does that even mean? I'm sure they say it in that song I was singing before.' He starts humming the tune, working through the words in his head.

'Please don't start doing your horse thing again.'

'Which horse thing?'

Eita tries and fails to mimic the dance moves, and looks so ridiculous, Suga can't help but squawk at him. 'You're a terrible dancer.'

'And you can't sing, so...' He's still smirking, holding his invisible horse by the reins.

Suga laughs, and says with mock indignance, 'Oh my God! How dare you?'

'Self-centred. Self-indulgent.'

'Thanks?'

'No! No, sorry! That's what wagamama means.'

'Oh! I see.' Relief washes over him. 'Why would you call a restaurant that?'

'They're obviously using it in a positive way? Who knows. I'm guessing they can't speak Japanese that well.'

'Me neither. I can just about read it. For manga.'

When they arrive at the cinema and buy their tickets, they're still twenty minutes early, so Suga drags Eita to the chairs in the foyer. He sits in the striped pink seat, curling his legs around, and tucking his feet under himself. Eita perches on a wooden stool opposite him, so tall his legs won't reach the floor.

'You could have sat next to me. It's big enough,' Suga says quietly.

'Wasn't sure if I should.'

Suga pulls his tights away from his legs and twists the nylon around the top of his finger, watching it the whole time. 'You could have.'

An uncomfortable silence settles over them again. Suga can't work out if he's on a date or not. At times it feels like one, but once they're not talking, there's something looming behind them. He keeps trying to say one of the sentences swirling in his head, but ends up just picking at his clothing instead. Eventually he remembers the rubber cube, and gets it out before he picks a hole in his tights.

'Can I ask something?' Eita's voice is almost inaudible. Suga looks up at him, but Eita is still looking at his hands.

'Depends what it is.'

'What's the story with Daichi?'

He doesn't know where to start with that one, even though he's pretty sure things are ramping up for the end of that particular chapter. 'I... had a crush on him. Not so much any more. It's all a bit weird, still.'

'Does he know?'

'Think so. He doesn't see me like that.'

'Is it because of...' He trails off, and looks annoyed with himself, shakes his head in disgust. 'Sorry. That was unnecessary. Forget I said it.'

Suga shakes his head as well, this time to reassure him. 'It's fine. It was, kind of. He's straight.' He laughs bitterly. 'Well. He thought he was. Until he met Kuroo.'

Eita simply nods. Apparently he doesn't need to know anything more, and Suga doesn't really want to say more anyway. He's almost relieved he can finally put this behind him.

'I'm gay,' Eita says, finally looking up. 'I thought I was straight. Until I met the right someone.'

'I thought I was straight. Until I realised I wasn't a girl.' His eyes flick to Eita nervously, but he just smiles and tilts his head in understanding.

There's an announcement on the speaker for their film starting in five minutes, so they both get up and gather their things. A smile passes between them as they move away, and Eita's hand presses lightly in the small of his back as they walk up the stairs.

Unseen, Suga's lip-gloss rolls under the sofa from where it fell out of his bag, and remains in the foyer with their doubts.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suga is singing[ 'Nandemo Nedari' by Kana Boon](https://youtu.be/wEHhrFfYC5E) basically because I have. And running around the house singing the wrong words and pretending to ride a horse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up - Suga gets misgendered here and there's a small altercation

This was a bad idea, he knows that now. Suga is just so persuasive, it's hard to say no to him. Unfortunately, he can persuade just about everyone he knows to get on board with whatever he's talking about.

The usual skateboard crowd gather around him as always, drawn like moths to his brightly burning flame. Kenma understands the appeal, everyone does, even though some of them don't know much more about Suga than he's pretty with a friendly smile, and always asks permission before he draws you.

No one has said no yet.

Kenma usually goes along to the park with Suga, providing moral support, if it's needed. He's never had to say anything, thankfully, Suga doesn't usually need any back-up if someone hassles or mis-genders him.

But Kenma is pissed off, because when he suggested coming to the park today, he failed to mention there was a meeting, and the park is full of up and coming skateboarders, all trying to be noticed by the promoters.

'I didn't keep it from you, I didn't know. Honestly!'

'I believe you. I'll just stay under here.' The spot beneath a disused ramp is quiet, and he's not visible from most angles. 'I've got my Vita.'

'I'll stay with you for a bit, but I might go over there and draw soon.' He points over at the main area where people are queueing for their turn. Suga understands the timetable for these things much more than Kenma, who only has a skateboard because it's marginally faster than walking, and he can avoid people more easily.

'Fine.'

Suga opens up the sketchbook, resting it on his knees, and starts loosely dragging his pencil across the paper. Kenma checks from the corner of his eye, and as always feels privileged that Suga will draw in front of him. He never draws in front of anyone else; he says it's because Kenma doesn't watch him to see what he's doing, or ask a lot of questions, and Kenma feels exactly the same about playing games with Suga sitting nearby.

'Hey look! There's a new stunt boarder! Not often you see that.'

'Hmm?'

'Comes off the board and mixes in parkour.' He points out someone with bright red hair, sticking up in peaks from his head. As they watch, he skates along with his board, then jumps off it, catching it in his hand; he then throws the board into a nearby bowl ramp with such force that it jumps out again of its own accord, after which he jumps back on with a perfectly timed leap.

'Wow. That's pretty impressive,' Kenma says, eyebrows raising slightly. It's not often he finds anything at the park arresting enough to watch and comment on, which makes Suga smile at him sideways.

'Good, right? It's controversial, but I love it. I don't understand why so many people complain but, meh, each to their own.' He shrugs and goes back to drawing. Kenma can see him start to sketch the bowl, and arrow lines to show the trajectory of the board. He was obviously as impressed as Kenma.

A few other skateboarders take a turn; Kenma spots only glimpses, despite Suga pointing every now and again, or breathing out in a, 'Wow,' a couple of times putting his pencil behind his ear and scooting forward for a better view.

There's a dark haired, sullen boy, who spends a good five minutes working the pipe. He seems technically good, but not very interesting to watch, the tricks are like watching a tutorial video, and no one really seems excited by what he's doing. Kenma can see he's performing incredible feats of agility, but it's not flashy enough to keep the crowd entertained.

Next up is a very tall man, with white hair and pale eyebrows. He doesn't use any rails or ramps, just performs his tricks on the flat concrete between the areas with furniture. It's more interesting than the previous skater, even though it's not as perfectly performed, and he's still scowling. Somehow his persona matches his trick style, as he jumps on the edge of the board, balances on one end, or holds it vertically, standing on the wheels and bouncing like it's a pogo stick.

An hour passes, and it's not as bad as Kenma thought it would be. He nabbed a quiet spot, and Suga is a thoughtful companion, as always.

'I'm parched. Shall I get us a drink?'

Kenma nods without looking up, so Suga closes up the sketchbook, and puts it in his rucksack, taking out his wallet instead. After pushing the rucksack towards Kenma slightly, he wanders off in the direction of an opportunistic van, which has arrived and started selling burgers and ice creams.

Without Suga there to gasp and point, he has no idea if anyone is still skating. His feet twist as they rest on top of both his and Suga's rucksacks, just in case anyone decides they can whip it away from him while he's absorbed in his game.

He feels a presence behind him, and assuming it's Suga bringing back the drinks, puts a hand out to take one from him. After a beat, with a still empty hand, he looks around to see why there's a delay.

Behind him, a ginger-haired boy crouches, looking guilty at being caught out.

'Sorry! I was just seeing what you were playing, and you're on the same level as me, and I can't get past it, so I decided to watch for a while, to get some tips, but then you noticed me, and I tried to run off, but cause of these things on my feet, I couldn't move fast enough, so now I feel like a massive tosser because I'm squatting behind you watching you.' As he speaks, he moves his arms around, almost in a blur, pointing at different things he mentions, including the skates on his feet.

Kenma is taken aback to such an extent that he looks back at his game and carries on playing while he gathers his thoughts.

'Are you okay? I'm really sorry.' The boy moves around on his knees until he's kneeling beside Kenma instead of behind him. 'I didn't mean to frighten you.'

Kenma looks up at him; his smile is enormous and reminds him of Suga's, he has freckles all over his nose and cheeks, and he's probably the least frightening thing he's ever seen in his life.

'I'm not frightened.'

'Oh! Good! I just like that game.' He finally sits on his backside instead of his knees, and stretches his bare legs out, before bending them again, bringing the two lines of wheels on the bottom of his skates together. 'Can I watch you do that again?'

'If you could watch without speaking?'

'Yes! I can do that. My... friend isn't very talkative, I'm used to being quiet.'

This seems the least convincing assertion Kenma can imagine about this ball of energy which has invaded his quiet spot, and yet somehow he finds himself believing it. He plays through the level again, and sure enough, the other boy doesn't speak once.

'Can I speak now?' he asks, peering at Kenma, who surprises himself by nodding. 'That was. Wow. How do you do that? Can you teach me?'

'It's just practice.'

'I tried so many times though! I just keep dying on that bit. Those weird dog things come out and whoosh! I'm dead! Just like that.'

Kenma looks up with a flicker of a smile. 'Even if a game seems unbeatable to start with, playing it over and over again means you'll conquer it.'

He nods, and looks determined. 'I will! I'll do it too! I've seen you do it, I know it can be done. I'll manage it for sure now.' He looks at Kenma, and flashes the shiny smile again. 'I'm Shouyou, by the way.'

People usually put their hand out to him when they introduce themselves, and he hates it more than having to look at them and give them his name in return. Shouyou doesn't though, he keeps his arms in his lap, lightly holding onto the loops on the back of his skates.

'Kenma,' he says quietly, still looking at him.

Shouyou is still smiling as he repeats the name, making sure he heard him correctly. He doesn't mention the low volume of Kenma's voice, or his strong accent, being the reason why he needs to make sure, as people usually do.

His hand may not have invaded his personal space, but that smile feels as if it's burrowing its way into him.

–

The burger van has a truly pathetic array of drinks. There's only a couple of things he's absolutely certain Kenma drinks, and none of them are on sale. He decides to just buy one of everything, since there are only four choices, and hopes one will suit his friend. It would be unkind to not try and accommodate Kenma's quirks when he's come so far out of his comfort zone just to make Suga happy.

He wishes he'd brought his rucksack with him, as he tries to balance the cans in one arm and shove his wallet into a pocket. His arms aren't long or strong enough, and he loses the battle; the orange flavoured pop falls and rolls away from him.

'Fuck!' He chases after it, trying not to lose the other three in the process, eventually catching up with it as rolls into a bike rack and comes to a stop.

He picks it up, frowning at it. 'I hope he doesn't want orange flavour,' he grumbles, wiping off some gravel.

'Hey! You missing something?'

Suga pats his pocket, realises it's empty, and the voice must be directed at him. He turns to see the red spiky haired skater he was watching before, waving his wallet from side to side like a metronome. He hadn't realised from a distance how tall he was, definitely over six feet, and he's looking down his nose at Suga with a smirk.

'You should be careful. Not everyone is as nice as me.' He extends the wallet to Suga, who tucks the orange soda under his arm more securely, and takes it.

'Thanks. I'd have been in trouble if I lost that.'

'No problem, Koushi.'

Suga goes stiff, and his smile dissolves. 'My name is Suga.' His hand runs through his hair, pushing it from his face. 'Did you go through my wallet?'

'To see who it belonged to. I didn't take anything.'

Only my pride, thinks Suga, but he's too aggravated to say it, or anything else. He just turns and starts walking back to the spot under the ramp. Unfortunately, the redhead follows him.

His voice is relentless and infuriating. 'Is it only friends who can call you Koushi? Can we be friends?'

'Please stop calling me that.'

'Don't you want to be my friend?' He leans in towards Suga's face, with a wide, toothy grin. 'I'm quite wonderful you know.'

'No thanks.' He speeds up his pace, and tries ducking behind another nearby ramp to shake him off.

'Pity. I've got a thing for tall girls.'

Suga isn't sure what happens first; the clatter of the cans falling to floor sounds at the same time as a shout from nearby. He can't see who shouts, he's too busy scrabbling around on the floor, pretending to collect the cans while he tries not to cry.

'Oi, Satori! Can't you see he's not interested? Leave him alone.' It's the tone rather than the volume that tells Suga the other man is shouting. The actual words are slightly muffled, like someone has a hand over his mouth, but Suga has no intention of looking at the scene, so that could be what's happening for all he'll ever know.

'I gave her her wallet back, I just want to be friends!' comes the irritating voice in reply.

'For fuck's sake! It's  _him!_ Stop doing that.'

'But it says...'

'You piece of shit. It's bad enough you went through his wallet.'

There's a sound like something falling on the floor, like a large bag or cushion, and as Suga looks to the side, he sees the redhead sprawled on his back looking up with surprise.

'Okay, okay!'

'Apologise to him.'

He turns to Suga, catching his eye. 'I'm sorry, alright. I didn't know.'

Suga stammers through an acceptance of the lukewarm apology, knowing it's probably the best he's going to get. There's another set of legs next to him, and a gloved hand comes into his peripheral vision.

The voice is much softer as it asks, 'Are you alright?'

He looks up to see who wants to help him to his feet, and sees the trademark mask worn by Semisemi.

At least that explains the muffled voice.

–

As soon as Eita hears Tendou talking that way, he knows there'll be trouble. There's a certain timbre to his voice when he talks to a stranger, which Eita has come to recognise after years of being his friend. It's one of the things which used to appeal to him, and now it makes him feel queasy.

Tendou is a wonderful friend, an intriguing stranger, and an atrocious enemy.

Once he realises the object of Tendou's attention is Suga, he knows his suspicions will turn out to be correct. He watches the whole thing play out, like some terrible slow motion video, trying to stay out of it for fear of Suga recognising him.

Although he knows Tendou will be trying to be a tease, he won't mean the conversation to be quite as cruel as it's turning out to be. If it means Suga recognises him in disguise, it'll be worth it to defend him against the inferior parts of Tendou.

He checks his mask is as high and his beanie as low as they can be, leaving as little of his face visible as he possibly can, before going over to them.

It's probably a bit over the top to grab Tendou by the collar and throw him onto the floor, but somehow seeing Suga treated like this brings out the worst in him. He gives Tendou the once-over, and seeing he's in no real pain, except for wounded feelings, he walks over to help Suga.

'Are you alright?' he says as he puts out a hand to pull him to his feet.

He hesitates at first, still frowning, and for a second Eita is upset; until he remembers that Suga not recognising him was the thing he was worried about, and it seems his cover hasn't been blown at all.

Eventually Suga takes his hand, and allows himself to be pulled up.

'Thank you.'

'No problem.' Tendou is still shuffling from foot to foot in the background. 'Was his apology enough?'

'Oh, yes. Fine.' He looks at Tendou, and holds his wallet up. 'Thanks for finding this. Urm. Your trick earlier was great. When you threw your board into the bowl.'

'Oh.' Eita is happy to see Tendou looks embarrassed. 'Well, thank you. Sorry. Again.'

'Are you here alone?' Eita says, deciding to ignore Tendou from now on.

Suga shakes his head. 'I'm with a friend. He's over under that ramp.'

'I'll walk you over.'

'Y-you don't need to do that.'

'It's fine.' He takes two of the cans from Suga's arms, and motions with an arm for him to lead them to their destination.

'I didn't realise you were here,' Suga says, and Eita stills, unsure of whether that means he's worked it out. But then he carries on. 'You know, what with this being for amateurs and you...not being.'

'I came with Satori. That dick back there. He's hoping for a sponsor.'

'He should find one no problem! He's amazing.'

'His attitude lets him down. He gets over confident and fucks up.'

'Not today though!' Suga looks at Eita, and must recognise some bitterness, and falsely attributes it to jealousy. 'Not as good as you though! You're even more amazing. I watched that video you posted last month, with that trick with the board on its side? I don't know what it's called.'

'It doesn't have a name yet.'

'You made that up?' He stops and stares at him, eyes wide. 'Holy shit.' He skips a little to catch up with Eita as he carries on walking. 'Can I...Could I possibly...draw you? Do you think?'

This time Eita stops walking. 'You're an artist?' he says with fake surprise. 'That's so cool.'

'Not really. Not at all! But I'm drawing something with skateboarders, and I've always liked your look. It's so Ishida.'

Eita remembers Akaashi saying something about his mask. 'Is that a manga?'

Suga's laugh peals again, as he says, 'A manga artist. He wrote Tokyo Ghoul. Loads of masks in it, a lot like yours. I just assumed. So. Can I?'

'If you like.'

'Cool! Do you have time now?'

'I want to stay away from Satori while I'm mad with him, so yes.' He smiles beneath his mask, hoping some of the affection he has for Suga makes it through to his eyes, before remembering he's not supposed to have this much affection for Suga.

Which leads him to thinking whether he means just when he's wearing his mask, or if he means at all.

They get closer to the ramp, still talking about different skateboard tricks, when Suga takes a sharp intake of breath, and speeds up. He rushes to the ramp, towards two men talking on the curb of the pavement.

'Hi! Sorry it took so long. I fell.' He reaches towards Eita, taking the cans from him, and holds them all towards the blonde playing on his phone. 'What flavour?'

He takes the orange can, and Suga warns him it might be a bit shook up. He holds it at arm's length, and gingerly opens the can, which spits out some of its contents with a pfffz.

Suga turns around and shows Eita the other three drinks. 'Would you like one?'

'Oh. Yes. Thanks,' says Eita, taking the lemonade.

'Urm,' he turns to the ginger haired boy, showing him the last two drinks. 'You want one?'

He looks at the blonde. 'Is that okay?'

'Sure,' he shrugs, drinking his own. The ginger boy takes the cola, leaving Suga with the bottle of water, which he looks at with a flash of disappointment before sitting down and patting the pavement next to him for Eita to join him.

There's an awkward air around everything, in some way that Eita can't place.

He points out the blonde to Eita, and introduces him as Kenma, before gesturing to the ginger boy, saying, 'And this is?'

The weird atmosphere is suddenly explained, and there's a flurry of tense introductions and overlapping hands as some of them shake hands, and some of them barely look at each other. It takes a couple of tense moments, but they all settle into sitting silently, Shouyou watching Kenma playing on his console, and Suga pulls out his sketchbook and starts sketching.

As he draws, he looks up at Eita, who's desperately trying to look at anything other than Suga, and is failing miserably.

'I'm sorry if I went overboard with Satori. We've got history.' He pulls up his mask, self-consciously. 'It wasn't just how he spoke to you.'

'Ah, it was maybe a bit melodramatic. Maybe next time do it more quietly and with a bit less physical assault.' He looks up, smiling, and carries on drawing. His voice is lower as he adds, 'I really did appreciate it, though.'

'He's not a bad person. Satori.'

'Mm-hmm.'

'He doesn't think before he speaks.' Why he's sticking up for Tendou isn't obvious to him. He looks down at his shoes, poking the sole of one with the toe of the other.

'Sorry, can you lift your head again? I was drawing you looking up here,' Suga says, pointing in the direction of his own face.

Eita looks back up, and his gaze shifts to the mole under Suga's left eye, moving over the flicks of hair sticking out from the braid across the top of his head, settling on the shine on the middle of his bottom lip.

Shit. There's no longer any part of Suga's face he can direct his eyes at without his breathing speed up.

Just as he has this realisation, Shouyou shrieks, 'Hey! That was fucking awesome! Wah, you're so cool.'

Kenma looks sideways through his fringe, with a shy smile at Shouyou. 'Thanks.'

His expression is the same as the one he knows he's hiding under his mask; it's one of someone being swept up by an irrepressible force, with no intention of fighting against it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

A month later, and somehow Bokuto has managed the impossible; an opportunity for Reon's band with Carnal Trash. A combination of sponsorship by the magazine, and a good word put in by a famous skateboarder who happens to know Reon, and the benefit gig they're organising has its support act.

The day of the concert brings everyone into the same space, but then the band's preparations, the crowd and the volume keeps them apart. They move off in smaller, easier to manage, groups, weaving through each other's evenings like weft on warp.

*

Bokuto looks at the hair whorl on the crown of Akaashi's head as he bends over in front of him. He wishes he had a hand free to trace it as it loops around, he needs to know if it goes clockwise or anti-clockwise, and he can't picture which one it is without using a finger.

He cautiously lifts his left hand, pointing the first finger outwards.

'What are you doing? Hold still, Kou.'

'Sorry! I was looking at your hair and wondering which way it goes.'

'It goes all over the bloody place already, I don't need you messing with it.' He gently slaps Bokuto's hand down, smiling slightly at the pout of his bottom lip.

Bokuto decides to look at his hands instead, but then he's mesmerised by his slender fingers, looping tape around each knuckle, and pressing the ends down firmly. He's been drumming for approximately twenty years, and has never once worn finger tape, never given it a second thought. As soon as Akaashi mentioned it, he couldn't understand why that was. It made no sense to have painful blisters for most of your life when it took seconds to wrap tape around your fingers instead.

This small custom has become their thing, when Akaashi can be at his gigs. It's their moment of peace before he's dragged under the hot coloured lighting, and has to perform in the way people expect him to.

With Akaashi, he's harmonious, like the taut strength of Akaashi's personality is a tuning fork, not a fragile drum skin as most people expect. He comes to Bokuto, and sets the tone, and Bokuto has no choice but to follow his lead. He could try not to, but he knows it's not only better for him, it's just inevitable.

So they have this ritual; Akaashi will wrap the tape, and they'll count to twelve until there's one on each finger, two on his first fingers, and with thirteen, he gets a kiss on the forehead, and handed his drumsticks.

They're almost halfway through, Akaashi finishing off his right thumb, softly saying six before moving to his left hand. Instead of dropping his right hand to his side, he moves it to Akaashi's face, and tilts his head up by the chin. He pauses for just a second, wondering if changing the ritual will be bad luck, but seeing Akaashi's half smile, slight confusion in his eyes, he decides it's worth it, and kisses him gently.

'Love you, Keiji.'

'You too,' he says, resuming wrapping his fingers in tape. 'Now stay still.'

Bokuto decides there and then to add this detail into the ritual from then on.

*

'It doesn't seem strictly fair for you to be doing the review.'

'I won't ever let my personal life get in the way of my job.' Yamaguchi pulls his green hair into a small bun, and pulls out his pen. 'I'm a professional.'

'I'm not saying you aren't,' Tsukishima sighs, and starts tuning his bass. He doesn't trust the roadies to do it, never has, never will. Kuroo always asks him to just let them do it, it'll make them like him more, but Tsukishima doesn't give a shit if they like him or not, he just wants a properly tuned guitar.

'What  _are_ you saying, then?' Yamaguchi smiles that annoying smile, causing Tsukishima to turn away rolling his eyes. He isn't actually irritated, he's just not sure he can cope with Yamaguchi looking professional just before he goes on stage. It's... well, it's just too sweet. He needs to keep up his front, and smiling like a lovesick teenager isn't going to help.

'Don't give us a good review just because we're... involved.'

'As if I'd do that. I'll give you a good review because your band is amazing. Not because I fancy you.'

'Oh, God, do be quiet. Someone might hear you.'

'So?' Yamaguchi starts writing on his notebook, saying the words out loud at the same speed he writes. '“The band is led, not by the lead singer or even the guitarist, but by the bassist, the extremely talented Kei Tsukishima, who arranges all the cover versions.”'

With every word, Tsukishima becomes more and more irritated, not just by the words, but by the interminable speed with which they're spoken. Finally he snaps.

'Shut up, Yamaguchi.'

'You should be proud! This band would be nothing without you, you know. They're not as skillful as Kuroo thinks, or as cool as Bokuto thinks, and Lev... well, he's just happy someone wants him to join in. But  _you_ ,' he says, moving closer to Tsukishima, stroking a finger up the neck of his guitar, until it reaches his hand as it fumbles with the tuning pegs. 'You,  _Kei_ , are the brains behind them. And there's nothing hotter than your brain.'

'You are so lame.'

Yamaguchi curls his fingers through Tsukishima's, still smiling at him despite the expression on his face as he watches their hands intertwine. 'Nah. You don't mean that.'

Tsukishima mumbles under his breath, still plucking the strings with his free hand.

'What'd you say? Couldn't hear you,' Yamaguchi says, theatrically cupping his ear and frowning.

Damn it all. He really is too cute. He curses that night out they had where the band met all of Akaashi's workmates. Everything was fine before then, and now? Now he  _smiles_ . Plus, it's also ridiculous that the four of them are going out with four people who work in the same office. What is this, pair-the-spare month?

'I said, you're cool. Alright?' He kisses Yamaguchi's hand, before throwing it away from himself. 'Now will you shut up?'

'Sorry, Tsukki,' he says in a sing-song voice, walking off with a sway of his hips and a wave of a hand.

'Don't call me that!'

*

'It's nice seeing everyone happy, isn't it?' Lev's sitting on the dressing room sofa, one leg stretched out with a heel on the floor, the other one bent so it rests on the back cushion. It's the fourth time he's talked about how happy everyone is, in some way or another. It started off as endearing, but is slowly creeping into annoying the hell out of Yaku.

He looks at Bokuto getting his fingers strapped and Tsukishima tuning his guitar. 'Don't you need to prepare as well?'

'There's only one thing I need to prepare. C'mere Yasha.'

'Do some voice exercises,' he says, ignoring Lev's arms stretching towards him.

'My voice is fine. Come and exercise my lips instead.' He stretches another inch, hooking a fingertip around the hem of Yaku's shirt and attempting to pull him onto the sofa. Yaku resists, for a couple of seconds, before huffing and falling onto him.

'Get off,' he says, pushing Lev's leg off his shoulder from where it's dropped off the backrest. It falls behind Yaku's back and Lev wraps it around his waist instead, pulling him into his chest.

'I want a kiss,' he says pulling at his collar, Yaku trying to slap his hands away the whole time.

'Jeez, what's got in to you today?' Lev is always affectionate, but he usually takes the hint if Yaku rejects him enough.

'I dunno. Seeing all these other couples. Makes me think about us.' He smiles at him, nuzzling the side of his face. 'I like being out in the open, too. So people know we're in love. I didn't like hiding it, I can't resist your cute face.'

Yaku rolls his eyes. Keeping it quiet was a pain, but being out in the open is more suffocating than he expected. Lev is so unbelievably affectionate. Not that this is necessarily a problem, he does love him and everything. It's just there's so much of him, and a lot of it is usually touching him in some way.

'Yeah, yeah,' he says, kissing him on the cheek.

'Gah, I can't stand it!' Lev puts a hand on either side of his face, bringing their noses together. 'You're so adorable. Can I put you in my pocket and take you on stage? Like a tiny good luck charm?'

'Fuck you,' he says, kicking his legs out to push himself away.

They wrestle on the sofa, a tangle of limbs and yelping, Lev trying to get his long fingers under Yaku's top to tickle him. Eventually, Yaku surrenders, melting against him; he always does, he's not sure when he became unable to resist him.

*

He's seen a lot of mismatched couples in his lifetime, but he's never seen so many in one room. He thinks perhaps it's something to do with the fact he's never dated someone in the music business. Or maybe it's because he's never dated a man.

Kuroo is a new prospect, in so many ways, but his band have all been really welcoming. Bit too welcoming to the rest of his staff, some would argue. Although apparently Yaku was dating Lev before he even joined Carnal Trash, so he can't blame Akaashi for everything.

'Alright,' Kuroo says, sliding next to him on the sofa opposite where Yaku and Lev seem to have forgotten they're in public. Kuroo notices them, and throws a pillow at them. 'Oi, you two! Give it a rest.'

'I'm exercising my instrument,' says Lev over his shoulder.

Yaku sputters. 'I thought I felt something against my leg.'

'You dirty bastards!' Kuroo shouts through laughter.

'Oh leave them, it's the quietest they ever are,' Daichi says with a nudge.

There's a tut from Tsukishima's direction, and an almost inaudible, 'They're morons, I get tired just watching them,' and a giggle from Yamaguchi.

The dressing room is like a living room in a family household, with Kuroo as the head. He watches over the others, in the same way Daichi watches over his own staff. He rules with more of an iron fist at the magazine, whereas Kuroo is a bit more laid back, but it's obvious they all look up to him.

He looks over at Kuroo as he checks Bokuto is doing alright, and gives him a pep talk. The nerves always start kicking in around this time, once Akaashi leaves him to go and join the rest of the audience, but Kuroo knows exactly when to step in. He smiles contentedly, and checks his phone when he hears a ping.

It's a message from Kenma, asking if Kuroo is backstage. He's used to their relationship now, although it was weird at first that one of his employees was childhood friends with his boyfriend. He texts him back, letting him know he is.

'Everything alright?' Kuroo asks now he's finished with Bokuto.

'Kenma just asking after you. Told him you were here. Hope that's okay?'

'Yeah, 'course! Not seen him in a while. He's been hanging with some new friend, I barely see him any more. Be nice to catch up.' He takes Daichi's hand and squeezes it. 'You alright?'

Daichi leans over, pressing their lips together, and after a second of surprise, Kuroo relaxes into the embrace, pulling Daichi closer.

'What was that for?' he asks with a smile as he pulls away.

Because he loves him, and just wanted to, is what goes through his head. But they haven't said those words yet, so he shrugs instead. 'Luck.'

Before he can regret not being more honest about his reasons, Kuroo's attention is caught by something over his shoulder. His face lights up in such a way it can only be one person, and Daichi isn't surprised to hear him shout, 'Kitten!'

'Hey, Kuro.' He's not sure how long Kenma's been there, but he must have seen them kissing. Daichi immediately feels guilty, even though he has nothing to feel guilty about.

'What have you been up to?' Kuroo says, untangling his long limbs from Daichi's and walking over to Kenma, a shit eating grin on his face. 'Forget your old friends?'

The usual back and forth starts between them. It's a well trodden path, familiar, warm, at least it is for Kuroo. He's never sure if it's as comfortable for Kenma, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else almost all the time. There are moments of relief in his expression that Daichi rarely sees, and it's always when he's talking with Kuroo.

He often wonders if Kuroo knows Kenma is in love with him.

Sometimes he thinks he must, because it's so obvious. But then he ruffles Kenma's hair, or cuddles up against him, and Daichi is pretty sure he wouldn't do that to someone he knew had feelings for him, he's not that cruel. Whenever he snuggles with him, he gazes upon Kenma like he's some extraordinary treasure, and Daichi recognises the look on Kenma's face; he'd rather have this than nothing at all.

Eventually, Kenma leaves. He never stays long backstage, it's too crowded. Kuroo makes his way back to the couch, resuming his position with Daichi.

'Kenma alright?' he asks him.

'Yeah. He's got a new friend. It's good for him, I'm happy.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. He's moving on. It's healthy.' His face takes on an uncharacteristic melancholy, and Daichi sees in that second that Kuroo does indeed know the truth. 'Like... you can love chocolate but it's not always good for you to eat it, ya know?' He turns to Daichi, still frowning.

He kisses Kuroo again, which smooths out the frown. 'I know,' he says, 'Doesn't mean we never crave it though.'

*

It's not the first time he's been to The Junction. It's not even the first time he's seen Carnal Trash playing here. It  _is_ the first time he's been here without Tobio, though.

He sighs as he thinks about him; he's so similar to Kenma, and yet so  _different_ . They both seem sullen, at first, but really it's just not being able to deal easily with other people. Where they diverge is the way they deal with this; anxiety becomes anger in Tobio's clutches, usually directed at the person he trusts the most, which unfortunately for Shouyou happens to be him. He's never hurt him, not physically, and he usually apologises afterwards. Sometimes he thinks they'd have been better off just staying friends, but they'd have never known it wouldn't work without trying it.

Kenma deals with his anxieties quietly, hiding himself in his hair or his games, until it passes. He won't take it out on Shouyou, even when Shouyou offers to talk to him about it. Before he met Kenma, he would have said this wasn't healthy, or he was bottling things up. The truth is, Kenma is so attuned to everyone's moods, none more so than his own, he can deal with it matter of factly.

Shouyou is getting familiar with his moods too, and as he comes from the backstage door and walks towards him, he can tell there's something on his mind.

He wants to ask what, but he doesn't. There are things he learnt from being closer with Tobio, and one was to try and sense the atmosphere, and sometimes to keep quiet. He's getting good at reading the mood, and thinking before he speaks, but even when his enthusiasm bubbles over, Kenma doesn't seem to mind.

All he says is, 'Hiya,' and Kenma nods at him before settling in the seat next to him, back to the wall.

The gap between their legs has shrunk in the weeks they've been friends. They haven't done anything too out of the ordinary, it's usually just meeting up somewhere quiet, and he practices tricks while Kenma watches, or plays a game.

When he used to practice at the park with all the skateboarders, he got a lot of flack. He doesn't see how his skates are that different to a board, especially when skateboarding was born from rollerskating in the first place. He'd never tell them that though, he finds them all a bit too intimidating.

His skates enable him to do amazing tricks, and he never has to worry about where the board is. He's faster than just about anyone he's seen there, and can jump much higher than they can on their boards, even without a ramp.

He enjoys park visits with Kenma, because he's excited to watch him, instead of telling him what he's doing wrong like Tobio does. There's nothing wrong with doing something perfectly, he'd just rather enjoy it and give it a bit of creative flair. Neither he nor Tobio found a sponsor at the meeting, despite both doing well. Shouyou knows it's because he prefers inline skating to skateboarding, but Tobio doesn't seem to realise that he won't ever get a sponsor until he lightens up a bit.

There's only two things they've done together which get Tobio fired up, and one of them they couldn't do in public. The other is doing combination skateboard tricks, but after their argument, they can't seem to get the timing right any more.

So instead, he practices on his skates, and he's lucky enough that he found someone who wants to watch, enjoy it, and not tell him every five minutes about how he's wasting his potential on inline skates.

'Is Kuroo okay?' he asks him, after about five minutes.

'Yeah.'

'You want to stay or go? I don't mind either way.'

'I think I'd like to stay.'

He seems less troubled, although there's still something there. Shouyou smiles at him, encouragingly, he hopes, before looking back towards the stage. The roadies have started tuning up instruments, taping down cables and arranging water bottles and towels.

There's a cool, gentle nudge against his hand where it's resting on the sofa between them, and Shouyou decides it's probably best to not draw attention to it. Without looking at either Kenma, or their hands, he nudges back with a finger.

He's a little taken aback when he feels Kenma slip his fingers between his. He's even more surprised, but happy all the same, when Kenma drops his head onto his shoulder for the first time.

*

The last time Terushima saw Bokuto's band playing, his mind was a mess; he was in the throes of a debilitating crush, and was feeling the black mist descending on him as he watched the subject of that crush sitting on someone else's knee.

A few months later, and, despite his mind still being the usual mess, he's now holding Ennoshita's hand instead of watching him from across the room. It's funny how things change.

He feels fingers constricting around his hand, and looks up to find Ennoshita's grinning face a couple of inches from his own.

'You look great tonight,' he says, kissing his cheek, 'I love that colour on you.'

He looks down at his shirt; purple isn't a colour he usually wears, but the tiny blue flowers appealed to him. 'Thanks.'

'You okay?'

Terushima forces a smile. It's not that he's not happy to be with Ennoshita, he's just not happy about being in the middle of the crowd. Usually, he skirts around the edge, but Ennoshita wants to stand with his friends, and he doesn't want to ruin the evening. 'Uh-huh.'

Ennoshita steps in front of him, facing him, and takes his other hand as well, holding them both and pulling Terushima towards him. His breath hitches at the sudden movement, and they're nose to nose, Ennoshita's breath warm against his mouth.

'I'd like to take you home, right now,' he says quietly against his lips. 'Do you mind?'

'W-what?'

'You don't look comfortable, and I really want to rip that shirt off.'

He smiles, and leans in to kiss him, just a soft one, but filled with promise for later. 'Please don't rip it. This is vintage Liberty.'

'Can I carefully unbutton it and remove it, then?'

'Hang it up afterwards, and you've got a deal.' He leans in again, and Ennoshita responds more this time; their hands part, but only so they can move them around each other. Terushima's arms circle Ennoshita's neck, almost chastely, while Ennoshita's hands spread across his back, tugging at the shirt's fabric.

'Chika, we're in public. Don't be one of those couples at gigs.'

'What couples?'

'The ones everyone complains about snogging while the band are playing.'

Ennoshita turns and looks at the stage, where the roadies are still setting up the instruments, playing random notes as they check the tuning. 'Darling, this isn't the band you know. We haven't come to see Radiohead.'

Terushima laughs and pinches his cheek. 'Since when do you call me “darling”?'

'Since you railed me against the bathroom wall this morning.'

He pushes him and says with mock anger, 'Shut up! People will hear.'

'I couldn't give a fuck who knows you're mine.' His lips are on him again, more urgently this time, and Terushima almost gives in and agrees to go home early. Almost.

*

Futakuchi sucks through his teeth. 'Dear lord. Your brother is _all_ _over_ his boyfriend.'

'How embarrassing.' The fact Hibiki has his hand stuck firmly in Futakuchi's back pocket, massaging his buttock, is beside the point.

'Did you meet him yet? What's he like?'

'You've never met him?'

'Only once. He was sticking his tongue down my boyfriend's throat in the toilet, so you'll forgive me if I've avoided him.'

Hibiki snorts in disgust. 'Classy.'

'Didn't you know your brother is a slut?'

He snorts again, unsure if he's taking the piss. People like Chikara aren't sluts, Futakuchi is just annoyed that someone else was the one being the arsehole in the relationship. He's positive he never referred to Chikara as his boyfriend while they were actually seeing each other, it's just a convenient way to remind everyone that (for once) he's the wounded party.

'Aw, look, it must have been fate. They seem happy together. And you got me.'

Futakuchi gives him a sideways sneer, although he also pulls him in closer with a hand around his waist. 'You are the superior Ennoshita, this is true.'

'So am I better than him, then? In every way?' He pinches his bum through his jeans as he speaks.

'I refuse to think about Chikara like that ever again. Mainly because it's weird as fuck.'

'Isn't it most men's dream to sleep with twins?'

'At the same time, usually,' Futakuchi sighs. 'People think it would be a dream come true, but would you really want to have sex with your brother in the room? And that leaves doing it separately, which is even weirder.'

Hibiki has to look away. He doesn't want to compare himself to his brother, but it's hard not to when you're the younger, even if only by five minutes, and he gets everything first, even your current boyfriend. Chikara always complains that his parents gave him such a stupid name to live up to, but it's even worse being named as if you're an after-thought.

Futakuchi notices how quiet he's gone, and asks, 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' There's no way he's admitting to this, he'd never live it down.

'You're just his brother as far as I'm concerned. I don't even think you look that much alike any more.'

'Bollocks. You thought I was him the first time we met!'

'It was dark. And I was pissed.' He lifts his free hand to Hibiki's face, stroking it with his finger. 'You're much more beautiful.'

He feels a flush across his cheeks as Futakuchi's gaze burns into him, and he seems impossibly tall and close to him. 'But we're identical,' he stutters out.

'Not to me.' He leans down, kissing Hibiki more gently than he ever has before. He's not sure where this Futakuchi has been buried, but he's not going to complain about his sudden appearance.

Hibiki kisses him back, soft and sweet, and it's a million miles from their usual lust-fuelled, urgent grappling. Oh shit, he's actually developed feelings for his fuck buddy.

'Now  _you're_ being embarrassing,' he says, moving away before he gets overwhelmed.

'Your parents must be so proud. Gay identical twins. What are the odds of that anyway?'

And just like that, Futakuchi is back to being a little shit, and everything is back to normal again.

Except that for the first time in his life, Hibiki doesn't feel like his brother's echo, and he has only one person to thank for that.

*

Reon straps his fingers ready for the gig. Unlike Bokuto, he's always done this; his hands are as important as his drum kit, he needs to look after them. If he can't play them because he's ruined the skin on his hands, then he won't get paid and they won't get their name out there.

Also unlike Bokuto, he's doing it alone. Well, apart from two of his more challenging friends.

'Where is he this time?' Tendou asks, helping himself to two beers from the table in front of him, passing one to Shirabu behind him.

'At his Latin exam,' Reon says, still wrapping tape around his fingers. He doesn't want to look up, because he knows exactly what Tendou is going to say.

'Why is he doing that? Who the fuck speaks Latin?'

'Virgil?' offers Shirabu, taking a drink.

Tendou laughs and throws himself back against him. 'Good one,' he says, smiling up at him.

'He's doing it for the love of learning.'

'And here we are drinking beer and watching live music like a bunch of idiots, when we could be learning a dead language just for the sake of it.' Tendou slams the heel of his hand into his forehead, and then tries to cover up the fact he hit himself too hard.

'Oh, leave him alone,' Shirabu says, taking over rubbing his forehead, 'If he's enjoying himself, where's the harm?'

'Because! Reon  _needs_ him. I come and watch you play! It's just what boyfriends do.'

'He's not my boyfriend,' Reon says, for what seems like the twentieth time.

'They're zucchinis,' pipes up Shirabu.

'No one says that. Although I do appreciate you reading about it.'

'So what do we call you then?'

'How about Waka and Reon?' he says with a sigh as he finishes wrapping the tape. They mean well, but they still don't really get it, and he's tired of trying to explain, especially when Ushijima isn't there to back him up. He's better at explaining these things, and Reon is better at making his friends feel better about their own struggles.

Not that being with Ushijima is a struggle, not at all. It's easier than anything else he can imagine. It's only difficult when other people try to quantify what they have.

'Honestly, I'm fine without him here. I have you two, and Eita is over there somewhere...'

'With his new “friend”,' Shirabu says, making lazy air quotes with one hand.

'They're not going out.'

'Grow up, Satori, of course they are.'

'No they're not!'

'Eat shit.'

'...And this is tremendously helpful and supportive of course.' Reon rolls his eyes and stands up. 'I need to go onstage. Behave yourselves.'

He wanders off, reading the good luck message Ushijima sent him a couple of minutes before and smiling. He only stops smiling when he looks back and sees Shirabu wrestling with Tendou and throwing beer in his face.

*

The lights flash twice, signalling the concert will start in two minutes. Everyone starts milling into the main venue area, waving at friends, jostling for a good position, or finding a wall to prop themselves against.

Suga settles near the back of the room, Eita standing behind him. It's probably because he's the taller one, but Suga feels shielded, protected.

They've spent a bit of time together since going for the kebab, mainly just meeting for lunch, or going to see a film. Eita is quiet, but attentive, and he enjoys his company.

He never sees him at the weekends, though, and since Kenma met Shouyou, they've all been spending more time at the skate park. The first thing Suga does when they arrive is see who else is there, and his heart skips a beat every time he sees Semisemi in attendance. They usually have a chat in-between displays, and Suga's drawn him again a couple of times.

The character in his manga based on Semisemi was meant to be background, but he started beefing up the role, and now, somehow, he's the main love interest. It makes sense that his protagonist falls in love with him, even if he can't quite put his finger on the reason yet. It'll come to him eventually, and the whole story will fall into place.

It's close to being finished; there are just a few pages left to draw, and it's taking a while because of this motivation he's missing. Eita hasn't asked again to see his sketchbooks, but he'd like to show him soon. He values his opinion, which is always brutally honest whenever they discuss films, books, clothes, food, whatever. He'd like to see what he thinks of his story.

Maybe he could even help him get to the bottom of the plot problem he's having?

He looks back to smile at him, but Eita is watching something across the room, his face unreadable. He follows his line of sight, and what he sees means he can immediately place the expression.

'You know them?' he asks, turning to the side a little so he can hear better.

'Oh. Yeah. They're friends with Waka.'

'So. Which one is it?'

Eita looks at him, and his face goes through at least four changes before he settles on the truth. 'The red-head.'

'Ah. I've met him.'

'Yeah?'

'At the skate park. He's talented. Good-looking in a weird sort of way.' He looks sideways at Eita, who is still focused on the two of them. They've stopped bickering, and are comfortably leaning on each other waiting for the band to start. 'How long?'

Eita finally looks at Suga. 'About a year. He's been with him for four months though.'

'They happy?' Eita nods. 'Yeah. Daichi... he's been with someone else for a few months too. Doesn't get any easier does it?'

Eita tilts his head to one side. 'I dunno. I think it does. Depends what you're doing instead of pining over them.'

'I'm not pining...'

'Me neither. Not any more, anyway.'

'What's your secret then? To getting over him?'

The lights start dimming, and the crowd cheer. Reon comes on first, followed by the rest of the band. They're more effusive than Reon, who takes his seat behind his kit, testing his drums. The guitarists whoop at the crowd and ask if they're ready.

In the seconds before the music begins, Suga turns towards the stage. Eita steps closer behind him, and a shiver runs down Suga's spine when he feels his chest pressing into his back.

As Eita's arms tentatively slip under his own, meeting each other at the front of his waist, he closes his eyes. They stay closed, as Eita dips his head, his hair brushing against his cheek as his lips ghost against the shell of his ear.

Suga is still trembling, when he whispers into his ear, 'I found someone I like even more.'

 


	8. Chapter 8

He holds Suga's quivering form, long after he whispers his confession. At least he hopes Suga takes it as a confession, he's not entirely sure. The shakiness is a good sign, unless he doesn't want Eita to touch him and doesn't know how to ask him to stop.

Feeling this could be a possibility, Eita leans in again. 'Do you mind me doing this?'

He can barely hear the answer over the first chords of the opening song, but he's pretty sure Suga says that no, he doesn't mind, so he keeps his arms where they are. Eventually, about two songs in, Suga's hand will end up creeping over Eita's, reassuring him, but for now, he can only wait.

The trouble with making this confession before the concert starts, is that it's now too noisy to talk about it and he's stuck in a limbo of his own making.

The oddest thing for Suga might be that as far as he knows, they've spent less time together than they actually have. He attempted to solve the constant battle to remember what Eita knows and what Semisemi knows by not saying much when he had his mask on, but then he still has to remember what Suga says to him.

Luckily, Suga talks so much and to so many different people, that Eita is fairly certain that even if he does slip up, Suga won't even notice. It's one of the things he likes about him the most.

He's fairly sure that it's this part of Suga which has made him able to keep up the pretence of being two different people for this long. It's only about five weeks, but Suga studies his face so much when he's in character, he still has trouble believing he hasn't noticed. He's not gullible or stupid, the ignorance is certainly down to his good nature; he wouldn't think anyone would lie about who they are, and even if they did, he would see it as no business of his.

The first couple of songs finish and Suga's hand becomes that reassuring presence; he tries to stop himself from kissing the top of his head, but his lips aren't really paying attention, they're acting on the instinct he has to tend to Suga. He presses them against his crown, breathing in the scent of his freshly washed hair with a sigh.

There can be no ambiguity now about his feelings for Suga, surely now he'll see their depth.

'Suga,' he breathes into his ear after the third song, when he doesn't think he can wait any more.

Suga turns his head to the side and meets his eye; there's uncertainty twisting there, but something else too. There's at least a minute, where all they do is look at each other and both of them seem to be waiting for some sign, some word or gesture or _something_ but they're both frozen with doubts.

He can only guess at Suga's, which is exactly what stops him from taking another leap; what if Suga doesn't want him to?

The stalemate is broken by Suga moving out of his arms and grabbing Eita by the wrist. He walks quickly away from the crowd, dragging Eita behind him, out into the brightly lit corridor. His head moves frantically from side to side, until he makes a decision and pulls Eita out through the main doors into the car park.

There's a small shelter around the side of the building, for people to go and smoke, and he's sure that's their destination. As they round the corner, he sees it's empty and Suga speeds up towards it. It's small, with flip-down seats along one edge, like a bus shelter; they get settled onto them, as comfortably as they can, hands still clasped between them.

Neither speaks, the last word between them was Suga's name.

Eita watches Suga, who looks at their hands, his thumb wiping back and forth across the ring on Eita's forefinger.

'What's the inscription?' Suga says, breaching the silence.

'Just my birthday.'

Suga picks up his hand, peering closer at the kanji on the ring. 'Eleven eleven,' he says, kissing the knuckle of the same finger.

'When's yours?'

'June.' He smiles up at him. 'You missed it.'

There's only so much resolve Eita has to resist Suga and each one of those smiles dilutes it slightly. This last one, coming so soon after he dragged him to a quiet area and kissed his knuckle, means his whole chest is completely flooded with him and fighting against the current is useless.

Eita swoops forward and catches his lips.

  


–

  


The menu at Number Four hasn't changed in the whole time they've been going there. Akaashi and Ennoshita introduced them all to the small coffee shop on the edge of one of the big green spaces. No one knows Cambridge's little haunts like the two of them, they're always first to try new businesses and venues, the first to hear about an emerging band or other talent.

Kenma already knew Hajime from when he used to work at Parrot Records. Although he's only a year older, Kenma looked up to him, asking him what was newly released. It was a pleasant surprise to see him when he finally followed Akaashi's suggestion the first time.

Even though everyone knows Hajime hates it when people refer to it as 'a hipster dive', Kenma isn't surprised. There's always at least one person in there with a beard, or skateboard, or both.

Today, there are two of them with skateboards to make up for the lack of beards – well, decent ones at least. Kenma notes that Suga's facial hair has definitely started to come in, while his own is so naturally dark, he already has a smattering of moustache growth, even at four in the afternoon. He wishes he could transfer the facial hair he has to Suga.

It's a few weeks since they were last here, looking at the magazine article. Suga hasn't mentioned his plan again and Kenma doesn't particularly want to remind him. Apart from anything else, Suga hasn't been at the office as often trying to figure out how to get Daichi to notice him; reminding him might make him start pining again.

Hajime brings over their order, Kenma's usual and some coffee and walnut cake for Suga this time,

'I've decided,' Suga starts, as soon as he leaves their table, 'We shouldn't meddle with Daichi and Kuroo.'

'Agreed.'

'Oh.' He looks like he expected more of an argument. 'Good.'

'I'm dating Shouyou,' Kenma says, as an explanation.

'Oh! That's great! He's a good guy. When did that happen?'

'At the gig. I went to talk to Kuro and I couldn't wait to get back to Shouyou. That's when I knew.'

'That's.. that's really great, Kenma. I'm happy for you.'

'Thanks.' He smiles and starts on his pie. It's as good as always and he makes an involuntary humming sound.

Suga picks at his cake, chunks of it making their way onto his fork, but never into his mouth. 'Can I talk to you about something else?'

'Sure.'

'It's Eita.'

'Obviously.'

'Huh?'

'Has he finally told you?'

Suga shyly pushes at his cake. 'Yeah.'

Kenma is relieved for a number of reasons; for one, it was worrying Kenma that Suga hadn't realised yet, and secondly, he's unbelievably relieved he didn't let it slip himself.

As soon as he saw Eita at the concert, he knew it was Semisemi. It was so obvious to him, what with his striking eyes. When Suga didn't mention it, he assumed he was just keeping quiet, maybe even knew already; but then he introduced Eita to Kenma as if they hadn't met, and Eita said it was good to meet him.

A look passed between them and the truth was plainly obvious; Suga had no idea they were the same person and Eita didn't want him to know. Kenma kept quiet and played along.

Suga looks up through his eyelashes. 'I'm not used to people being interested in me. Not in that way. Usually I'm a kind of, urm, novelty I guess is the word.' He looks back down at his cake again, demolishing it until it's more or less a pile of crumbs.

Kenma stares at him, a forkful of apple pie halted on its way into his mouth. 'Wait. What did he tell you?'

'That he, ah, likes me.'

'Uh-huh.' He nods and carries on eating the pie. 'Right.'

With this development, there's an internal scream he pushes deeper into his stomach; Suga still doesn't know and apparently didn't realise Eita was attracted to him either.

'So, what happened?' he asks.

'I'm not really sure. It was kind of weird. He didn't actually say it. He told me he got over someone by liking someone even more. And then he hugged me and kissed my head. So, I don't know...'

'Sounds like he likes you.' Kenma feels like he's stating something as obvious as 'grass is green' but Suga seems to need spoon-feeding. 'Then what happened.'

'We went outside and he kissed me. On the lips.'

Kenma puts down his spoon, a little more loudly than he meant to. 'Suga, what are we discussing here. Are you not sure he likes you? Or not sure you like him? Or what?'

'Both! After we kissed, we didn't really talk about it.'

'What did you do?'

'Went back inside and watched the rest of the concert.'

He isn't sure whether he wants to slap Eita or Suga more. He takes a minute to organise his thoughts, deciding the best way to approach the situation. Suga waits, knowing it'll be worth it.

Eventually, he parts his fringe, ready to speak.

'Remember the article about splitting up a couple?' he says, narrowing his eyes slightly. 'If you think about it, the opposite would bring people together. Right?'

'I.. I guess so?'

'Firstly, you trust him.'

'Absolutely.'

'And he trusts you? He talks to you about things?'

Suga nodded. 'He told me about the unrequited thing with Tendou.'

Kenma ignores the fact Suga has probably accidentally let slip something Eita wouldn't want anyone else to know and carries on with the third point. 'We already know you're the kind of person he wants. He's told you, more or less. Do you like him?'

He nodded again. 'Yeah, he's lovely.'

'It's inevitable then. That was the conclusion I came to with Shouyou. I couldn't fight it.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I guess.' He sighs, loudly, obviously not finished. 'It's … it's Semisemi.'

Kenma almost can't believe his ears. 'What about him?'

'I like him as well.'

Kenma struggles to keep a straight face, but Suga isn't looking at him anyway. All he trusts himself to say is, 'Alright.'

'I know nothing about him. He doesn't talk much. I only draw him. And fanboy over him.' He shakes his head and scoffs. 'I don't even know what he looks like. But there's _something_ , I can't stop thinking about him.'

'So. It's the mystery. Instead of going for someone you know is kind and trustworthy and hot, you're thinking about someone else.'

'I know, right? I'm so hopeless!' He bangs his forehead against the table top and covers his head with his hands. 'Why don't I know what's good for me? Why do I always want what I can't have?'

Kenma takes pity on him. 'Talk to Semisemi tomorrow. Tell him what you've told me.'

Suga snaps his head up, with a look of horror. 'I can't do that!'

'You can. I'll be there as back-up. If he's not decent enough to be understanding, then you can't let this ruin what you could have.'

Hajime comes over to the table and clears away their plates, looking at Suga's pile of crumbs with a frown. 'Something wrong with the cake?'

'No! Your cake is always amazing! I'm not that hungry.'

'Boy trouble,' says Kenma.

'The blonde from the concert?'

'Yeah,' says Suga, snapping his head up. 'Wait, you were there?'

'Yep.'

'Didn't see you...?'

'I was backstage.'

Kenma's ears prick up at this. 'I went backstage to see Kuro. You weren't there.'

The change in him is subtle, but definitely there. He looks away from them both, his hand runs through the hair at his nape, a tiny flush of pink on the tips of his ears. He exchanges a look with Suga, who's also noticed it.

Hajime mumbles, 'Probably in the loo,' before walking back behind the counter and going straight into the kitchen.

'What the hell was that?' says Suga.

'Weird.'

'I don't think I've ever seen him flustered.'

He carries on drinking his tea, while Suga carries on trying to see what Hajime is doing in the kitchen. Kenma has an idea of why he was acting as he was, but he doesn't want to betray Hajime, especially to Suga, who cannot keep a secret to save his life.

There was only one other person missing backstage on Sunday and Kenma suspects that's why Hajime is less composed than usual. If he was with the band's manager, Oikawa Tooru, he can't afford to be outed until he's ready. Even though he's only mildly famous, as the agent of an up and coming band, it could ruin his career.

Kenma locks away another of his friend's secrets.


	9. Chapter 9

The skate-park is quiet for a Saturday. The weather is the usual mixed bag of British summer as it turns, all too soon, into autumn. The ground beneath the sycamore is spotted with wet leaves already, even though it's only a couple of weeks since they were all eating ice cream under the same tree.

Suga sits alone, leaving Kenma and Shouyou to have some time to themselves. Although that's not strictly fair to say it's just for them, especially when they didn't ask; he wants some time to himself as well.

Kenma's chat was useful, up to a point, but then once he was alone again and Eita texted him asking if he was free to meet-up, he found himself not sure what to say. He wanted to say yes, of course, name the place. But the inner chant of, What about Semisemi?, was insistent, so he agreed to meet him later in the evening and was met with a curt message of agreement, then nothing else.

So now he waits, not even knowing if Semisemi will turn up and without a contact number to ask him. He really is a fucking idiot.

To calm himself down, he flicks through his sketchbook from over the summer, a plethora of Semisemi in varying poses. His clothes never differ, a plain black sleeveless t-shirt, knee length black shorts, his face under the mask and hair under the hat. So, instead he concentrates on his muscles and the way they flex with each movement. He traces their lines with his pencil, leaning it onto its side to shade in the sharp lines of their dips and edges.

He's particularly fond of the flash of collarbone he sometimes gets when his shirt gets tugged to the side when he does that one trick. Or that divot in his upper arm when he reaches to take a can of drink from Suga.

It's not weird or perverted. Without facial expression, or interesting clothing, what else is he meant to focus on?

Guilt climbs his throat; he could focus on his personality, if he knew anything of it. He comes here on Saturday to skateboard and he prefers lemonade if he has a choice. Is that really the sum total of his knowledge?

There's someone else he knows better. Someone who only likes action films, because he watches films to not think for a while. Someone who eats fish, but not meat. Someone who thinks Suga should stop wearing the t-shirt with the apple on it, because it's a little too tight.

Someone with a small pack of paper in his bag because one of his friends likes to fold origami swans when he's bored: who doesn't use lip balm but carries it for another one of his friends, who stubbornly refuses to admit he uses it: with four different types of snacks in his bag, because his friends like different things, but no granola bars because one time someone complained it was broken and he told them to, 'buy your own bloody food, then.'

Someone who carries sanitary products, even though he doesn't have periods, because his sister needed them _once_ so now he just carries them everywhere.

It's only then he realises he's in the wrong place, he made the wrong decision earlier.

He should be with Eita.

*

He's pissed off, to tell the truth. It's not often Eita is so honest about how he feels and the one time he takes a chance, it doesn't pan out how he expected. He'd thought after kissing Suga at the concert, he'd choose him over the skatepark and they'd have a chance to talk it over.

Instead, he's in his skating kit, making his way across the green, in a terrible mood. Suga – well, he's just too nice isn't he? He'll talk to anyone about anything, which is a blessing as well as a curse. It makes him warm and fascinating, it's a pleasure to spend time with him.

However, it does make him worry if he would feel like he had enough of Suga's attention, should anything develop. He was tired of being second best with Tendou and he's not about to go through it again.

There are a few ways to solve this. He could tell Suga who he really is, which isn't a good idea with Suga's lack of discretion.

Maybe he could make it so Suga doesn't want to hang around with Semisemi. He read something in his sister's magazine once, about turning people against each other; wasn't the key getting them to not trust each other any more? Then again, he doesn't want to make Suga hate Semisemi, because eventually he'll have to find out it's him, if things work out between them.

The fact he's thinking about the future is the biggest sign of what he should do; but it seems insurmountable right now. He can count the number of people who know about his double life on his fingers, it's surely too soon to bring Suga into the circle.

Whatever he chooses to do, he knows this can't go on. It's ridiculous to lose out to himself for Suga's attention. Being second best to yourself is not a normal situation, but then again, nothing has been that average since he met Suga.

As he nears the skate-park, he spots Suga sitting beneath a tree just outside the fencing. His hair is loose today, no ornaments or braiding, and he has a pair of baggy jeans and a checked shirt on. The apple t-shirt pokes out of the top of the neckline, making him smile; the other day he said it was a bit tight on Suga and regretted it almost immediately. It wasn't that it didn't look good, if anything it looked a little _too_ good.

Even though he still hasn't made his mind up about what to do, he pulls his mask on, tugs his hat further over his hair, and makes his way towards him.

*

He sees Semisemi walking over and his resolve almost weakens because his legs are utter perfection. He reminds himself of his earlier thoughts outlining how little he knows about him other than he could crack walnuts with his thighs and smiles up into his face instead.

'Hey! Wasn't sure if you were coming.'

'Saturday, isn't it?' He slumps down on the grass next to Suga, leaning his elbows on his bent knees.

Suga closes his sketchbook and rests it on his crossed legs. Semisemi seems troubled by something, but there's no way they know each other well enough to ask him what's wrong. The gulf between them is further emphasised by the distance between them as they sit, how little he's looked at Suga, and how little either of them are saying.

'I nearly didn't come myself,' Suga says trying to sound casual, 'But I don't have a number or anything, and thought you might wonder where I was.'

'I would have asked Kenma.'

'Oh. Of course.' There's a stinging in his eyes. He wipes them in frustration, surprised not to see a black stripe on his finger. It's a long time since he went out without eyeliner.

'Where would you have been?'

'A friend asked me to meet him.'

'Why didn't you go?'

He's wondering that himself now, as well as if Semisemi has always been this brusque and he just didn't notice. He's never been so honest when he sighs and says, 'I really don't know.'

'Maybe you should have gone then.' He stand ups, brushing the grass from his shorts. 'I'd better get to the park.'

He's already walking away when Suga can't bear it any more. He shouts, 'Why are you being such a dick?'

'Huh?' He turns around and if he wasn't wearing a mask, Suga thinks he'd probably still be expressionless.

'What have I done wrong?'

'Nothing.'

'Then why are you being a dick?' he asks again.

Semisemi shrugs and turns away. Suga's eyes are stinging again, but he can't stop himself running after him.

'Hey!' he says, grabbing the back of his t-shirt. 'Talk to me! I want to know if I did something. And if it's not me, what is it? I care about you.'

This time, Semisemi snorts through his mask. 'You don't even know me.'

'Maybe not. Doesn't mean I don't care. You didn't know me when you punched Satori.'

'That's...different. Anyone would have done that.'

He pushes Semisemi in the shoulder, possibly harder than he means to, and gets a look of surprise. 'No they fucking wouldn't! Everyone else would have thought what he did. But you knew. It doesn't happen a lot. That someone knows and is fine straight-away. That's why it matters, you nobhead.'

'Fuck.' He moves towards Suga, who flinches slightly, not really knowing what's coming after he pushed and insulted him. But it's okay, because he just puts his arms around him.

They stand hugging under the tree for a minute or two, Suga has no idea how long, but Semisemi's arms hold him fast. They don't feel bad around him, comforting even, and he smells sweet, like red berries. Not real fruit though, sweeter than that, berry flavoured candy.

'Suga,' he whispers near his ear and it's not muffled any more. Suga has his eyes shut and doesn't dare open them.

The smell, the voice, the feeling of his arms, it's all familiar. He knows his mask must be down and he has the feeling if he looks up, he'll recognise the face. The thought that he might be wrong paralyses him, stops him opening his eyes.

He doesn't want to lose these moments here believing what might be true. If he doesn't open his eyes and confirm or deny, he can believe whatever he wants.

'Suga?'

'Give me a minute.'

His voice is unbelievably soft as he says, 'You know though, don't you?'

'Maybe.'

'You do.'

If he's wrong...

His eyes are still closed, as a finger lifts his chin and lips press against his.

He was right. He knows these lips.

'Eita,' he breathes out as he opens his eyes.

 

–

 

_Epilogue_

 

'Eita?'

He can't speak, for a moment, and then words are gushing. 'Suga! This is incredible! Why do you always say you're not a real artist?'

'Because I'm really not...'

'Look at this! It's beautiful. Oh, gods, I think I'm gonna cry.'

Eita looks at the book, bound along the edge with criss-crosses of thick, white thread. He strokes his hand down the front. It's decorated with a drawing Suga did of them, under the tree. Areas are picked out in more of the thread, and the feel of it beneath his fingers is a reminder of Suga's hands creating it.

'Well, I wanted to do something nice for your birthday.'

'This is more than nice. It's...thank you.'

He throws his arms around Suga, pulling him into his lap, who laughs with surprise before joining their lips. 'Happy birthday, Eita.'

He kisses him again, thighs tightening around him as he does so; Eita hums into his mouth and grips the back of his shirt.

'Now, this is more what I would call _nice_. That book is a work of art.' He brushes a stray hair from Suga's eye. 'You staying over?'

Suga nods and nuzzles into his neck. With warm breath across his chest and slender fingers playing with his own, Eita is so content he could stay like this forever.

Then Suga's phone rings. He huffs in frustration and leans backwards to reach it.

'Keiji? What? Hang on.' He gets up, while Eita rolls his eyes and leans back on the bed. 'When? Is he okay? Do you want me to come over there?' Eita has no idea what's happening, but he desperately wants Keiji to say no, then feels automatically bad about it. 'Shit.'

At this, he sits up, because there's genuine concern laced within the words. 'Everything okay?'

'It's Yuuji,' says Suga. 'Have you seen him recently?'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, there's another part of the series coming soon, obviously.


End file.
